


Still Two Fools

by Kantayra



Category: Smallville
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-24
Updated: 2007-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark and Mercy team up to save Lex from his <i>real</i> arch-nemesis: marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is crack!fic. It really, really is. It also borrows themes from the Superman: TAS episode "Ghost in the Machine." Because Clark and Mercy trying to save Lex was _far_ too amusing an idea for me not to run with it. :P Also, I know that they eventually switched Mercy from a brunette to a blonde. But I liked her better when she was a brunette, so I went with the initial character design. Just because I could. :P

Clark had been about to collapse on the sodden remains of his couch and die when the knock came at his door.

The reason behind the collapse was that some idiot in Edge City, who was going by the name ‘Professor Nefarious,’ had decided that it would be a good idea to give Parasite, of all the villains out there, access to a frighteningly large supply of Kryptonite. That battle? Had not been fun.

The cause of the sodden remains of his couch was that, as soon as he’d flown back to Metropolis following the aforementioned Edge City/Professor Nefarious/Parasite/Kryptonite Incident, the Weather Wizard had decided to annoy Metropolis for the evening by generating a giant lightning storm for the purposes of invoking an age old demon named Bip, in order to eat the city whole and then throw the whole mess in the Flash’s backyard. Clark had neglected to close the window (see: aforementioned Edge City/Professor Nefarious/Parasite/Kryptonite Incident) when he’d run out earlier that afternoon, and had returned to discover that his bed was now a giant puddle with stuffing sticking out of it, his computer was ruined and sparking up a storm in the corner, and his couch, which had been furthest from the windows, was drenched although somewhat viable for the truly desperate superhero.

The die part of the equation came from the fact that, instants after discovering the tortured remains of his apartment, his cell phone had gone off (proving beyond any doubt – which Clark had never had – that evil _did_ exist, since his phone was the one electrical item in the whole of his apartment to survive the Weather Wizard/Bip/Flash/Lightning-storm Incident). And who should be on the other end but Perry White, yelling rather loudly about how they were going to press in less than half an hour, and he _still_ hadn’t gotten Clark’s copy. Of course, Clark’s computer was trashed (see: aforementioned Weather Wizard/Bip/Flash/Lightning-storm Incident, brought on upon via open window, re: Edge City/Professor Nefarious/Parasite/Kryptonite Incident) so that meant that Clark had to retype his entire article which had been _on_ said drenched computer (thank god for supermemory) using his downstairs neighbor Sandy’s computer.

A brief note on Sandy: Sandy was 35 and still single. This meant that Sandy was thoroughly desperate, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She didn’t particularly like Clark, or even find him all that attractive, she’d explained one Sunday afternoon when she’d cornered him in the laundry room. But he was passable, and her biological clock was ticking. Clark had tried to use his relationship with Lois as an excuse, but Sandy had unfortunately _seen_ Lois and had immediately concluded that Clark had no chance in hell. Clark’s feelings for Lois were moot; he didn’t have a prayer of dating her, and that made him SINGLE (in all caps) in Sandy’s mind. Clark had then pled homosexuality, at which point Sandy had demanded to know the name of Clark’s boyfriend, and Clark’s knee-jerk answer had made her laugh even _harder_ and get a weird manic gleam in her eye.

There weren’t many times in Clark’s life where he’d feared bodily harm so greatly that he’d pulled the “Oh my god! Look at that right behind you!” maneuver and supersped himself all the way to Canada before he’d stopped. That had been one of them.

So, in conclusion, borrowing Sandy’s computer to send his copy? Was pretty much worse than the Edge City/Professor Nefarious/Parasite/Kryptonite Incident and the Weather Wizard/Bip/Flash/Lightning-storm Incident _put together_.

Thus, when the thunderous knocking pounded on Clark’s door, he hesitated for a moment, stared longingly at his sodden couch, and sighed. Damn his heroic instincts. Because _no one_ knocked like that unless it was an emergency.

Cursing under his breath in English, Kryptonian, and whatever language Bip had been screaming at him earlier that evening, Clark opened the door.

The woman on the other end was wearing jeans, a gray t-shirt with the LexCorp logo emblazoned across the front, and a Sharks baseball cap pulled down low over her face. From Clark’s lofty height of 6’4”, he couldn’t see her face, even though she was tall enough on her own part. He could see that she had brunette, medium-length hair that hung just past her shoulders in a way that wasn’t exactly flattering.

Then, before Clark could offer so much as a “huh?”, she slipped past him and practically fled into his apartment, glancing around furtively.

“I’m sorry,” he began slowly, feeling that sinking sensation in his stomach like his life was about to be thrown into chaos yet _again_ , “but I think you have the wrong place.”

The young woman quickly jogged over to the windows and pulled each of the Venetian blinds closed with an expertise that left Clark momentarily wowed. With all his superpowers, it _still_ took him at least five tries to get the damn things to stay down and even, without getting tangled in any of the strings.

Of course, he soon recovered himself enough to continue. “You must be looking for someone el—”

“Shh!” The woman hissed at him angrily before pulling a small electronic device from her back jeans pocket. She took a moment to hook what looked like a metal pen into the front of the device and then hit some buttons. Little red and yellow lights lit up on the thing, and it began emitting a ticking noise.

Clark felt a sudden surge of alarm; years of being Superman had given him a healthy fear of strange devices with random flashing lights. “Look, do I know you?” he asked nervously.

The bill of the Sharks cap rose several inches as she looked him in the eye long enough to affix him with the most supremely annoyed glare known to mankind, and then she was back to walking around his apartment, holding the device out in front of her like it was a dowsing rod.

Wait.

He _knew_ that disgusted expression.

“ _Mercy_?” He blamed the complete and utter surrealism of this situation on the fact that he didn’t recognize his arch-nemesis’ bodyguard who, only three days ago, had had a semi-automatic with a Kryptonite laser sight pointed squarely at the center of his forehead. And then he remembered that, oops, he was technically _Clark Kent_ at the moment, who most certainly had never had Kryptonite lasers pointed at him and who probably shouldn’t even be able to _recognize_ Lex Luthor’s bodyguard, let alone be on a first name basis with her. “Uh…I mean…”

“Will you be quiet?” she snapped, ducking into the bedroom with her device.

“I…er, recognize you from the pictures from the charity auction last month,” Clark prevaricated on the spot, “and…um…”

Mercy emerged from the bedroom and stalked right past where he was flailing like mad into the kitchen, knuckles so white on her gizmo that Clark was surprised that she didn’t snap it in half.

“And…uh…Lois mentioned your name once,” he continued on helplessly, “for a…uh, story, and…”

Mercy emerged from the kitchen with a satisfied look and yanked off the Sharks cap. She looked much more like herself without it – all steely-eyed determination and Glare O’Death – except for the strangely casual clothing.

“And I…” His lame explanation was falling flatter than the Kansas countryside. “Have a really good memory?” he practically squeaked out, hopeful that he’d covered for his gaff.

Mercy snorted and rolled her eyes, returning the device to her back pocket. “You’re lucky this place isn’t bugged, Kal-El,” she commented snidely before glancing at the sodden couch. Her lip curled slightly. “Although I can understand why no one’s ever bothered…”

Clark opened his mouth to be offended, and then realized that – holy shit! – she’d called him ‘Kal-El’, which was what she and Lex had taken to calling Superman lately, since they _knew_ it drove him up the wall, which meant that she thought Clark Kent was Superman, which in turn meant that _Lex_ thought Clark Kent was Superman because the two of them seemed to share knowledge like a weird symbiotic life-form, which was _bad_ because…Lex was… _Lex_ and…badness! Clark’s mental flailing kicked up a couple of notches while, apparently, vital information was imparted.

“Did you hear me?” Mercy demanded crossly, hands on her hips.

“Uh…” Clark needed a convincing lie, and fast. “You want Kal-El. I’m not him. You’re in the wrong place.” Oh, _brilliant_.

Clark had been wrong earlier. Because _this_ was the most supremely annoyed glare known to mankind. And quite a few other races, as well. Clark knew this because he’d visited dozens of planets, and no alien in the universe could ever looked as pissed off as Mercy did right now.

“I don’t have time for your games,” she informed him with a smug, superior air that she’d totally stolen from Lex.

“I’m Clark Kent.” Maybe repeating himself and acting _really_ dumb would work. It was, after all, the only plan he had. “Mild-mannered reporter.”

One of Mercy’s eyebrows rose an inch, and her lip curled in a disgusted sneer. “I know who you are, Kal-El. And I know that it’s difficult for you not to act like a _complete_ idiot, but this is important.”

“I’m not Kal-El!” Clark insisted. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Kal-El. Superman. You.” That psychotic rage that she’d gotten in her eyes that time Lex had ordered her to sic the swarm of super-intelligent, Kryptonite-infected wasps on him was there. Not good.

“No, I’m not!” he repeated weakly. “You can’t prove—”

With an irritated sigh, she removed the device from her back pocket, then before he could react, hurled it with her full strength directly at his forehead. It shattered to pieces, of course. He didn’t even have time to pretend to flinch.

“T-That doesn’t prove anything! Maybe it was defective!”

The expression on her face was the exact same one Lex had had on _his_ face that time Clark had told him that Lex ‘witnessing’ Clark overturning a field tractor was actually the result of a bad acid flashback. Ah, the good old days in Smallville, when Lex had just looked like he wanted to strangle Clark with his bare hands rather than dissect him with really painful Kryptonite scalpels…

“Right.” Mercy, apparently, wasn’t even going to acknowledge that his ridiculous excuse had even been uttered. “I need your help.”

Clark was just happy that the topic of conversation had changed from him being Superman. “I don’t know how I can help…” he began hesitantly.

“Lex is in trouble.”

“…Or even that I _want_ to help,” he added with the most honesty he’d used all night.

Mercy’s eyes narrowed at him.

Clark decided it was time to change the subject again, before it returned to him and Superman. “Where’d you get the hat and jeans?” he asked curiously. It was bugging him, actually. The shirt made sense; after a lifetime of unwavering dedication, it seemed reasonable that she was entitled to a free LexCorp t-shirt.

Mercy glanced down at herself, looking a bit irritated at the ensemble. It probably wasn’t evil enough. In fact, she looked kind of like a college intern. _Definitely_ not evil enough. “I bought them.”

He blinked at her.

“With money?” And there was the dripping sarcasm he’d come to know and love from Mercy, that tone that suggested that he was the most insufferable moron she’d ever had the displeasure of working with. “I suspected I was being followed. Can we return to the matter at hand?”

He gulped. “Uh… What _is_ the matter at hand?” He glanced nervously at his closed door. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that Lex would burst in within the next few minutes, probably wearing a ridiculous hooded sweatshirt and beach shorts. Actually, Clark would kind of pay to see that. “Where’s Lex?”

Mercy’s brow furrowed with concern at that. “At the penthouse still.” A thoughtful pause. “I hope…”

Clark blinked. “You mean… He’s not with you?” That was just _impossible_. Mercy and Lex were joined at the hip with some sort of Invisible Cable of Evil. Said cable demanded that they always be within fifty feet of each other at any given moment. The cable was undetectable by any human or superhuman senses, yet Clark had faith that it existed, because it simply had to exist. There was no other way two human beings could be so ubiquitously in each other’s presence.

“He…” A slight tremble sounded in Mercy’s voice, and if that wasn’t a sign the world was ending, Clark didn’t know what was. “He…gave me the _day off_.”

The way she said ‘day off’ made it sound like Lex had shot an entire litter of puppies in front of her, rather than given her what was probably much-needed vacation time. But, for Mercy, time off was probably as bad as a death sentence. In many ways, she was just as incurably weird as Lex was.

It was odd that that was what stopped Clark’s ‘holy shit! Lex and Mercy know my secret identity!’ flailing, yet that finally did it. “Wait…” he said, suddenly grasping the seriousness of this situation, “Lex didn’t…” A gulp. “Lex didn’t take the day off too?”

Mercy nodded, looking miserable and terrified.

Clark swore. “What is it? Mind control? Clone? Evil alien robot? Split into his good and evil halves due to Black Kryptonite accident?”

Mercy looked at him oddly at that last one. Of course, that had been before her time, hadn’t it? “You’ve seen the news, right?” she asked anxiously, her shoulders stiff like she was ready to drop-kick anything that moved. She eyed the lamp with wary suspicion.

“News?” he repeated, oblivious.

Mercy’s gaze returned to him and turned thoroughly disbelieving. “You’re a reporter.”

Oh, shit. That was right. She knew that Clark Kent and Superman were the same person. Maybe if he tried to convince her he wasn’t really Clark Kent? He was just…er, Superman, dressed up as Clark Kent, in Clark Kent’s apartment, and…oh, damn…

“You _must_ have seen the news,” she insisted.

“I’ve been busy?” he offered sheepishly. The dread was back now. He’d faced horrors beyond human comprehension: Doomsday, invasion from Apokolips, a Connie Chung Christmas III, and…

“Lex Luthor,” Mercy stated his full name lest there be any confusion that this might be some other Lex with whom they were mutually acquainted, “is getting married. Again.”

…It was worse than every other horror Clark had imagined, combined.


	2. Chapter 2

“Vivian DeLisle is a murderous, deceitful, gold-digging harpy.”

Clark frowned and tapped his foot impatiently as the elevator rose steadily, the floors flashing by as white, illuminated numbers on the buttons of the control panel. “How do you know that?”

“She’s marrying _Lex_.”

Mercy had a point. On the other hand, Clark had been hoping that she had something more concrete to go on. Ties to the Yakuza or a black widow tattoo at the small of her back or Devil horns, for instance. It was hard to defeat Lex’s evil wives if one didn’t know what particular brand of evil they were. Clark was having bad flashbacks to Wife #4 with the acidic tentacles at the moment. What had her name been again? Deidre? Or was that wife #5?

“How on earth did she get him to propose?” Clark was a reporter. He could get the necessary information out of Mercy if it killed him. Which, most likely, it would; he still wasn’t sure what had become of that Kryptonite laser.

She snorted. “They’ve known each other for a whole of three days.”

“Ah,” Clark nodded knowingly, “mind control. Or maybe hypnosis.”

Mercy nodded in agreement. “It clearly doesn’t work on me, though.”

“Maybe it only works on men. Wife #1 was like that.”

Mercy shuddered. “I know. She came back last year. It took three teams of scientists, all our genetically engineered cucumbers, and a pack of Tamarian attack hounds to defeat her.”

Clark nodded sympathetically. He had fond memories of Desiree. She had been _so_ much better than the evil cyborg wife. Which had she been again? 5? 6? 7? “You’d think Lex would’ve just given up on women by now,” Clark chuckled to himself.

Mercy gave him a very odd look, like he was the most clueless person she’d ever met.

“What?” Clark asked, puzzled.

She just shook her head and muttered under her breath, as the elevator came to a halt on the 62nd floor. The lights went out and then a white scanning light shone through the glass wall to their left, covering the elevator’s interior from ceiling to floor. Lex, Clark had decided quite a while ago, was just a little bit paranoid.

“WARNING,” a mechanical voice intoned when the light landed on Clark, “KRYPTONIAN LIFEFORM DETECTED.”

Mercy matter-of-factly entered a command code into the elevator’s computer console.

Clark yawned and checked his watch. He still hadn’t gotten any sleep, and he thought wistfully of his sodden couch.

“ERROR!” The computer’s voice turned ominous. “INVALID OVERRIDE CODE!”

Mercy froze, wide-eyed, as the scanner’s light turned a deep, sickly green. “He must’ve locked out my command codes…” she breathed in disbelief and then, from the waistband at the small of her back, emerged the Evil Kryptonite Laser Clark had nightmares about. “ _Fly_!”

Mercy’s first shot cut through the glass wall before them like a hot knife through butter and caused the scanner to explode in an array of sparks and explosions. Clark let out a yelp and fell to the ground as glass shattered all around them. After all, he wasn’t in his costume, which meant he was supposed to pretend that—

“Oh, please!” Mercy sneered at him in distaste.

“I’m not—!” Clark began, just as four robotic arms descended from the shaft above them, all pointing green lasers directly at them. He took one look at the lasers, the broken glass, and the psychotic glee in Mercy’s eye…

A millisecond later, he had one arm wrapped around the waist of a squirming and slightly disoriented bodyguard and the other stretched out in front of him as the circled LexCorp Towers, a shattered elevator car in their wake.

“—Superman,” he finished a little glumly as they rose ever higher through the clear Metropolis skies.

Mercy snorted and glared at him, Evil Kryptonite Laser still in hand.

“I’m not!” Clark insisted, which probably wasn’t a smart idea because said Evil Kryptonite Laser could be turned on him at any minute. Mercy was just crazy enough that she might rather plummet to her death than tolerate his half-baked lies.

But Mercy, who could be surprisingly Zen at times, proceeded to ignore him. “This is faster than the elevator, anyway,” she concluded matter-of-factly.

Clark breathed a sigh of relief. He was in Clark Kent guise, flying through the sky, but she still hadn’t _proven_ that he was Superman. And, yeah, he was grasping at straws so far away now that Plastic Man would have trouble.

Fortunately, evil robots were there to save the day. Clark had long ago discovered that no situation was so grave that it couldn’t be interrupted by evil robots. Evil robots pretty much trumped any other crisis known to mankind. Clark could’ve kissed Lex for letting loose the evil robots just then, except thinking about kissing Lex for some reason always seemed to distract him the matter at hand which, in this case, was the all-important matter of the evil robots.

Mercy saw the first evil robot to their right and swore. Said evil robot looked like a small, human-sized helicopter with two Terminator-style mechanical arms emerging from its sides. The arms contained (of course) more Evil Kryptonite Lasers. The Evil Kryptonite Lasers were definitely a theme in all of LexCorp’s secret projects of late.

Mercy pulled out her own Evil Kryptonite Laser and shot the evil robot right in the propeller. The thing fell and, Clark noted with relief, landed atop the Freemont Building in a fiery explosion: no causalities then, and Lex fucking _owned_ the Freemont Building so it was Lex’s own damn fault that his own damn bodyguard had shot down his own damn evil robot onto his own damn building. Clark had to worry about these things nowadays. Lex’s lawyers had finally gotten the state courts to declare Superman a legal entity within the United States judicial system and thus capable of being sued.

“Drones!” Mercy shouted out in alarm, her voice whipping about with a weird Doppler Effect given their speed and the wind.

“How many?” Clark shouted back.

“At the Towers? Only 26. 185, total.”

“ _Fuck_!” Clark didn’t bother to ask where the other 159 evil robots were; they were undoubtedly deployed at Lex’s various evil labs throughout Metropolis and beyond. Odds were, however, that Lex wouldn’t call in reinforcements until it was clear that his home batch of evil robots had failed. It was just standard supervillain protocol. Besides, worrying about the remaining 25 evil robots was more than enough: one thing at a time.

A green laser shot by Clark’s left ear, missing him by mere inches, and for a moment they froze in mid-air, then fell for several harrowing seconds, before Clark’s powers returned to full and he led them back around the south side of LexCorp Towers again.

“Hey!” Mercy protested, like it was his _fault_ that Kryptonite could kill him or something. Two more robots appeared in front of them, and Clark took them out with his heat vision, while Mercy fired behind them three times in quick succession.

It was _Mercy_ , so of course all of those shots must have hit. That meant 20 evil robots were left.

Another laser shot at them from below and skimmed Clark’s leading arm. His cheap, wrinkled suit disintegrated on impact, exposing the blue alien-synthetic of Superman’s costume beneath. The glancing hit caused them to tumble through mid-air, and with Clark’s last bit of strength, he managed to steer them in the direction of the Galdina Plaza Hotel and turn so that he was on the bottom, shielding Mercy from the impact when they crash landed.

It was quite a bumpy, risky, and death-defying landing, in which the remainder of Clark Kent’s suit was destroyed, leaving him officially in Superman Costume for the rest of the night. Which was just as well, given that he was flying around Metropolis anyway.

However, it completely ruined the drama of their staggering crash landing that, the instant they’d come to a halt atop the Galdina, Mercy leapt up off of him like their flight had been no more harrowing than your average Metropolis cab ride, Evil Kryptonite Laser in hand, and returned to joyfully murdering the drones that were still attacking them.

Clark lay in the groove he’d generated in the cement of the Galdina’s roof, looked up at the stars above, and contemplated dying a little. Had he mentioned lately that he hated Evil Kryptonite Lasers?

However, it kind of defeated the purpose of him being the superhero and Mercy being the evil supervillain lackey if Mercy destroyed all the evil robots on her own. Even if her boss was the one controlling said evil robots.

With a groan, Clark rose to see that Mercy had pulled a _second_ semi-automatic from somewhere or other, and this one glowed with a strange black light – and, no, Clark wasn’t sure how it was possible for something to glow black, but this gun did – before Mercy fired it high into the sky between three of the robots. A shimmering black distortion appeared in the night sky before all three robots were sucked inside, and the distortion closed up like a portal.

It _looked_ like…

Oh, dear god! Lex had found a way to open rifts in the Phantom Zone to the point where he’d created a gun that could actually do the job with nothing but a pull of the trigger! Clearly, Lex was a madman and needed to be stopped at all costs!

Of course, that was nothing new, so it didn’t faze Clark in the slightest. Lex getting married again? Now _that_ was scary.

“How many are left?” Clark yelled to Mercy, taking to the air again and feeling perfectly chipper now that the Evil Kryptonite Laser’s effects had worn off.

“Twelve,” she shouted back, squaring her shoulders as the next pair of drones approached.

“I’ll draw them off!” Clark really didn’t see any reason he needed to, given that Mercy looked perfectly happy to kill each and every one of the things with her usual bloodthirsty efficiency, but it was just the principle of the thing. After all, he was Superman, and she wasn’t. So there.

Clark figured it was a pretty safe bet that the things would chase after him. Because he had to face it: all of Lex’s evil robots were programmed to chase after him. Under normal circumstances, Mercy would’ve been on the safe list. So as soon as Clark took to the air once more and did a big, fancy loop-d-loop over the Galdina, the dozen remaining robots took off after him like killer cyborgs on a mission.

He led them all straight up, ducking and dodging as fast as he could to avoid their Evil Kryptonite Lasers. It was actually a good plan because the problem with evil robots was that they just weren’t very smart. They didn’t know, for example, that their propeller motors actually needed oxygen to run and that, as soon as they were high enough in the atmosphere, the little motors would putter right out, causing the evil killer robots to crash to their doom. In Clark’s softer moments, he almost pitied them. And he really pitied whatever they’d crashed into down below…

Of course, since he’d flown straight up, they’d all crashed right onto the roof of the Galdina Plaza. Mercy, who had somehow avoided all the falling scrap metal from above, looked supremely annoyed at him when he finally returned. There was an artfully placed smear of machine oil on one cheek and a slight tear on the left shoulder of her LexCorp t-shirt. Other than that, she still looked immaculate. Clark had no clue how she pulled that off. Possibly, it was her secret superpower.

Clark picked her up for the quick flight back to LexCorp Towers before Lex could call in the reinforcement robots from his evil labs. “You know,” he informed Mercy, “just because I can fly, have heat vision, am vulnerable to Kryptonite, and wear the Superman costume under my clothes, doesn’t _prove_ I’m Superman.”

“When this is over,” she informed him primly, “I’m going to kill you. A lot.”

He probably deserved that.


	3. Chapter 3

“You killed my robots.”

Lex always sounded so _hurt_ when Clark destroyed his evil instruments of death that Clark felt the strange impulse to apologize. He repressed it, just like he repressed pretty much every strange impulse he had around Lex. And there were a lot of those.

“They were trying to kill me,” Clark insisted defensively, hovering several feet in the air over the rooftop garden of LexCorp Towers.

He’d dropped Mercy off only moments before, and now she was cradling her Evil Kryptonite Laser in her hands, looking around anxiously for Soon-To-Be Evil Wife #9.

“Mercy,” Lex’s voice sounded thoroughly pissed off, “I thought I gave you the day off.”

“Your mind has been taken over by nefarious powers beyond your control, sir,” Mercy informed him matter-of-factly, eyes surveying all the garden shrubs with a wary hunter’s eye.

Lex took that in stride, like this was an everyday conversation for the two of them. Knowing Lex and Mercy, it probably was. “You should know better than anyone the expense of producing free-range drones. And the factory will be backed up for the next three months with…er…” He cut off suddenly when he realized that Clark was listening.

“Yes, Boss,” Mercy agreed. “It was absolutely necessary in your defense.”

“I deployed those drones.”

“Your judgment has been compromised.” Mercy’s gun scanned the greenery coolly. “Where’s Vivian?”

“She’s asleep,” Lex answered, hands sunk casually into the pockets of his silk pajama pants. How Lex managed to look cool wearing purple pajamas and slippers was beyond Clark, but that was Lex.

“Excellent.” Mercy nodded to Clark. “I’ve got the Kryptonite. I take it you still have the restraints?”

Clark dangled the nth metal handcuffs from one finger. During his and Mercy's brainstorming session earlier, they'd concluded that nth was the material capable of holding the widest variety of crazed Lex-marrying sociopaths. Personally, Clark had his money on vampire. Lex hadn’t actually married a vampire yet, so the odds were good that he was due.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mercy,” Lex said in that infuriatingly calm voice, “Clark.” He rocked lazily back on his heels, and his gaze turned fully back to Clark.

“Who’s Clark?” Clark offered nervously. “It’s me, Superman.”

Mercy gave him a disgusted look.

“I’m in costume now!” he insisted defiantly.

Now Lex was looking at him like he was a complete idiot, too.

“I’m not Clark…” he protested weakly.

“He’s been doing this all evening, Boss,” Mercy commented.

“My condolences,” Lex sighed.

“Hey!” Clark glared at Mercy. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“No,” she corrected him, “I’m still on Lex’s side. I’ve just recruited you for the time being.”

Clark was starting to develop a headache. It was the natural result of being around Lex for more than two minutes at a time.

“You know, I was considering asking you to be my best man again,” Lex commented thoughtfully.

“That was Clark Kent, not me!”

“…But given the fact that you’ve already ducked out on me three times…”

“That time with Helen was an emergency,” Clark insisted. The times with Wife #7 and 8 _had_ been intentional, however. Because, by that time, Clark had concluded that it was just hypocritical to be the best man at the wedding of his arch-nemesis and whatever crazed psychopath wanted to bring at end to The World As We Know It _this_ time. After all, the only reason Clark had even attended Lex weddings four through six had been the convenience of thwarting Lex’s wives on the spot.

“…And then you destroyed all my robots…”

“I always do that,” Clark reminded him. “Your evil robots? Kind of suck.”

Lex’s eyes narrowed, and Clark realized belatedly that he’d really stepped in it this time. Lex was surprisingly sensitive about his evil robots. “That’s it. You’re off the guest list.”

Given that Clark had been Lex’s arch-nemesis for years and years now, that wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Still, it would make things a lot more difficult. Clark straightened his posture to full Superman Mode and crossed his arms over his chest in an authoritative way. “We’re here to prevent you from making the biggest mistake of your life.” His voice boomed and echoed nicely through the neat little Japanese garden. “Er…for the ninth time.” Okay, so that last part made him sound kind of wishy-washy. But, in all fairness, it had taken him a while to figure out the pattern: anyone who married Lex was an automatic sociopath.

Lex affected a cool, disinterested expression. It was the one he always wore in courtrooms when he knew that, once again, plausible deniability was on his side. “In less than two minutes,” he informed them, his voice like ice, “another eighty drones will converge upon this location.”

Mercy looked nervous at that. “Sir, I don’t know how, but Vivian’s controlling you. If you’ll just let me run the Scenario 91 protocols…”

Clark had no clue what Scenario 91 protocols were, but he had his own methods. The best thing about situations where Lex was compromised was that they gave him a legitimate excuse to x-ray Lex from head to toe, with some noteworthy stops in between. Clark did a quick scan of Lex’s skeleton before checking out what was just beneath his clothes. After all, parasitic, mind-controlling organisms were often visible on the skin’s surface. To Clark’s knowledge, they weren’t often visible anywhere near the general vicinity of the subject’s ass, but it never hurt to be thorough in his investigation…

“…And stop x-raying me, Kal-El!” Lex snapped.

Clark felt his cheeks flush, and his vision instantly returned to normal. He had no idea how Lex could tell when he was doing that, but Lex always could.

Mercy gave Clark a knowing little smile, before hopefully quirking one eyebrow.

“No parasites,” Clark sighed dejectedly.

Mercy’s expression turned dour.

“As you can see,” Lex commented smoothly, running his hands down the front of his pajama top as if Clark’s intent surveillance had rumpled the fine silk, “I’m perfectly in my right mind.”

“You did promise that you would never get married again,” Clark reminded him. “About five wives ago, in fact.”

“Well, then, I obviously didn’t mean it,” Lex concluded.

“Four of those were evil and had taken over your brain.”

“This time must be the charm, then.” Lex sounded perfectly reasonable, but Clark caught a glimmer of blue-white iridescence in Lex’s eye. Glowing eyes meant only one thing, he’d learned: evil possession.

“Proper protocol,” Mercy insisted, “demands that you be physically separated from your fiancée for a duration of two weeks, to make sure any potential mind-control is dispelled.”

“Two weeks is out of the question,” Lex insisted. “I’ve already called my father to inform him that he’s not invited to the wedding. If I don’t act quickly, he’ll find a way to get past security and show up.”

Clark gulped. If Lex had already uninvited Lionel, they had to hurry. Normal, non-mind-controlled Lex always put off that onerous task until the last minute. “What do we do?” he hissed to Mercy, in what was a thoroughly doomed effort to keep Lex from hearing them.

“We?” she repeated in disbelief. “ _You’re_ the one who’s supposed to talk some sense into him.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Clark asked, baffled.

Mercy glared at him like the answer should be the most obvious thing in the universe. Lex’s eyes turned to him too, as if Lex had some inkling of what Mercy might have been thinking. Clark was at a complete and utter loss.

“We could always knock him out, and I could drag him back to the Fortress of Solitude. Let the AI fix whatever’s wrong with him,” Clark suggested hopefully.

He felt the faint burn of Kryptonite radiation at his back and turned to see that Mercy had her Evil Laser pointed right at him. “You’re not taking him anywhere near that place,” she hissed. “I’m not letting _anyone_ control his mind, especially that brainwashing computer of yours.”

Oh, right. Mercy was Lex’s bodyguard still, wasn’t she? He probably shouldn’t have told her about that plan, then. And now the damage was done…

It occurred to Clark, not for the first time, that this would work a lot better if his only ally in this debacle was actually on his side.

They stood at a standstill for a moment, Mercy pointing her laser about menacingly, Clark debating how to get out of there without being shot, and Lex looking supremely confident about the whole affair. And then, to make matters worse, the subject of their debate arrived on scene.

“Lex?” an eerily haunting voice cooed.

Clark caught his first glimpse of Soon-To-Be Evil Wife #9. She was petite, pretty, and blonde. That last one caused him to do a double-take. Because, yeah, if Lex was engaged to a _blonde_ , clearly the world was ending. Lex didn’t do blonde; it was like a law of physics or something.

“Vivian.” Lex held out one arm, and the blonde instantly curled up against his side, looking about anxiously.

“What’s happening?” Vivian, it seemed, had simpering down to an art form.

Mercy’s eyes narrowed. “Step away from my boss,” she ordered, laser pointed in Vivian’s direction menacingly.

“Lex?” Vivian simpered some more.

Clark felt the sudden, irrational urge to strangle her. Lex did _not_ need some helpless little child to hang off of him; he needed someone strong, independent, able to match his own power and keep him in check. Lex needed an _equal_ , and this woman certainly wasn’t it.

“Drop the gun, Mercy,” Lex ordered.

Mercy twitched slightly, like it was causing her deep psychological damage not to obey Lex’s every insane whim. “I’m sorry, sir.” Clark was almost proud of how strong she sounded.

“I-I know you don’t like me,” Vivian continued to cling to Lex’s chest like she’d gotten talons into him and was never letting him go, “but don’t you want Lex to be _happy_?” She fluttered long, dark eyelashes up and down over huge, baby-blue eyes.

Mercy snorted in distaste.

Clark, however, fought back a tear, suddenly overcome with emotion. “Mercy…” he practically pleaded. Because it was so _true_ , he realized. Lex was all alone in the world, and Lex _deserved_ to be loved _so much_. Anyone who _really_ loved Lex would let him go, let him finally be happy and…

“Kal-El!” Mercy slapped him across the face. It didn’t hurt, but then Mercy swore and cradled her hand, and Clark’s knee-jerk concern that he’d accidentally hurt someone took over.

“Huh?” He blinked. He finally noticed then that wide blue eyes had focused on _him_ in an unnerving way that made it look like Vivian was trying to look right through him.

“Stop being so damn susceptible!” Mercy snapped angrily, still clutching her hand.

“The two of you,” Lex consulted his watch – and only Lex would wear a ten-thousand dollar watch to _bed_ , “have exactly forty-two seconds before the back-up drones arrive.”

“We’re not leaving without you, Boss,” Mercy insisted stubbornly.

“ _Please_ ,” Vivian cooed, blue eyes beseeching Clark once more. He had the strangest sensation that her eyes were pulling him in, drowning him, until he couldn’t think or feel anything else. “If you really love him, you have to let him go…”

For one perfect moment, Clark and Lex’s eyes met, and Clark saw something deep and vulnerable in Lex, like Clark’s decision right then mattered more than anything else in the world.

“No way in—” Mercy began.

Clark snatched her up and had flown them back to his apartment by the time she got out:

“—Hell!”

***

“You.”

Clark fell to the ground behind the refrigerator, covering the back of his neck with his hands in the duck-and-cover position.

“Are.”

The Evil Kryptonite Laser sliced through his kitchen cabinets, sending a wave of nausea through him, and he barely had time to scramble for the door to the bedroom.

“An.”

There was a loud smashing sound from the living room. Glass tinkled, and then there was a second smash, and everything was perfectly quiet for a moment.

“ _Idiot_!”

Another round of smashing began and then, just as quickly, settled down.

Clark dared to peer around the corner of his bedroom doorway, keeping low to the ground in case the Evil Kryptonite Laser was still in play. The kitchen was clear. From the living room, he could hear a pulse slowing down from a sudden influx of frustrated adrenaline. He risked getting to his feet, crossing the kitchen, and looking warily into the living room.

“Mercy?”

Mercy had slid to the floor against the far wall, her semi-automatic resting limply in her lap. She was studying it in an almost disbelieving way, like she couldn’t imagine why she’d just tried to blow up half his apartment with it. Around her lay the shattered remains of Clark’s lamp. Given the way she’d been eyeing it earlier, he’d suspected it wouldn’t survive the second act.

“Are you not homicidal now?”

Mercy snorted derisively, which was as close to normal as she ever got. “Why on earth did you fly us out of there?” she demanded, still angry as hell but at least in check this time.

“There were more drones coming,” he insisted defensively.

“We didn’t have any trouble taking out the first twenty or so.”

“And there was no way of getting to Vivian without hitting Lex.”

“Oh, ye of little faith…”

“A-And…” Clark sniffed. “Lex _wanted_ me to go!” The sniffles turned into out-and-out sobs.

“Oh, _god_!” Mercy exclaimed in wide-eyed horror as Clark collapsed into a whimpering puddle in the kitchen doorway.

The worst part was that Clark _knew_ he was being an idiot, knew Vivian had used some form of telepathic manipulation on him, knew that she was still controlling him even now and making him act like a hopeless moron. But he couldn’t stop. Because Lex was in love with _Vivian_ , and he was going to marry her, and there was nothing Clark could do to stop it, and he shouldn’t even _want_ to stop it because, after all Lex had been through, the ninth time had to be the charm, right? Right?

“Uh…” Mercy looked as horrified as he’d ever seen her when he looked up at her through tear-stained eyes. “Knock it off?” she ventured hopefully.

“I… _can’t_!” he exclaimed in frustration.

“She’s controlling you,” Mercy reminded him, “bending you to her will the same way she did Lex.” She considered for a moment. “She must’ve banked on my being in love with Lex and tried to use it against me.” She snorted. “Big mistake. Unfortunately, you got caught in the fall-out.”

Still sobbing softly that Lex was lost to him _forever_ , Clark managed to glare at her. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” And then a fresh round of misery overtook him, and he buried his face in his hands once more.

“Oh, for crying out…” Mercy let out a frustrated grunt and then eyed the Evil Kryptonite Laser in her lap in a very disturbing way. “If you let Vivian’s ridiculous powers of _emo_ beat you, I swear to god…”

“What are you…?” Clark began, wide-eyed.

“It worked last time.” Mercy said thoughtfully. “Sort of…”

“No! Don’t you—”

She pistol-butted him right in the forehead.

The last thought Clark had before the world went black was that he _knew_ he hated that thing for a reason.


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m hoping Lex hasn’t changed the schedule.”

“Ow.”

“The fact that I brought you in will probably help us with that. He _hates_ changing his schedule due to Superman’s interference. He’ll probably stick to the old schedule just to be stubborn.”

“Ow.”

“So, I’m thinking that we’d better keep you as far away from Vivian as possible, given that she can turn you into a blithering idiot with a mere bat of her eyelashes.”

“Ow.”

“Since I’m immune, I’ll take her down. I’ll need you to run interference and deal with security. Given that I’m not there, that should be pretty easy.”

“Ow.”

Mercy turned in the driver’s seat to glare at him; he actually thought that he was becoming pretty immune to Mercy’s glares, due to repeated exposure. “Would you stop saying ‘ow’ already? You’re _Superman_ , for fuck’s sake!”

“I am _not_ Superman!” Clark insisted primly, holding the ice pack to his forehead like he was in abject agony. And technically it was true. He was back in Clark Kent garb for the morning, and he wasn’t going to let anything like the fact that Mercy had been standing right outside his door, tapping her foot impatiently while he changed, ruin the very careful boxes he’d placed in his mind to separate his various alter-egos.

She gave him a disgusted look. “If you think getting hit over the head hurt, I could always _shoot you_ , you know.”

“I don’t see why you had to hit me over the head in the first place,” Clark protested. “And: ow!” To tell the truth, the pain had stopped a few minutes after he’d woken up on his sodden couch, but Mercy had actually looked somewhat guilty over the whole pistol-whipping incident, so he was going to milk it for everything he could.

Mercy pulled the Porsche to a halt outside an unmarked door amidst a line of shops on 12th Street. She’d, thankfully, given up on her ‘disguise’ and was back in uniform now. Thankfully because, while Clark could care less about what Mercy wore, he _did_ miss driving around in the really expensive and impossibly awesome cars that surrounded Lex like a fleet of well-oiled luxury. The last time Clark had been in a Porsche, he’d been eighteen and Lex had been angsting about how he thought he was turning evil again. Clark could still remember sitting there, pulled off to the side of the road, mesmerized by the sound of Lex’s voice, the way the pale skin of his throat moved when he spoke, the way the baby-soft leather of the seat hugged his body perfectly. They’d stayed parked there that night while Clark itched to do… _something_ , until Farmer Joe had finally chased them off his property at 3 AM. In retrospect, maybe he should have been paying more attention to what Lex was saying and less to how hot his ass was. Hindsight was always 20/20.

Still, Clark had fond memories of Porsches…

Mercy’s fingers snapped in front of his face, pulling him out of his blissful nostalgia. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Beat up Lex’s security, yeah, yeah,” Clark grumbled. “My head _hurts_!”

“Then you should follow my plan, since the only way to break you free of that harpy’s control seems to be to smack you silly.” Mercy had the Evil Kryptonite Laser in her lap, thankfully with the Kryptonite scope turned off, and was recharging the power cell.

“It was completely unnecessary!” Clark retorted.

“You were hysterical!”

“No, I wasn’t!”

“Yes, you were!”

Clark glared at her until she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Just don’t let her take you over again,” Mercy finally muttered.

Clark figured that was as close to an apology as Mercy could manage. “So what are we doing here?” He frowned at the very non-descript door that Mercy’s eyes were narrowed in on.

“As I was _saying_ ,” Mercy huffed, “Vivian will go here to buy her wedding dress. Given how insipid she is, no way will she let Lex come along, so we can get to her without any collateral damage.”

“What about those security guys I’m supposed to beat up?”

“I’m assuming you’ll be annoyingly self-restrained and not kill anyone.”

“Well…yeah.”

“Great. No collateral damage. Are we ready?”

Clark got a flashback of blue eyes, filled with malicious intent. Of tiny fingers running possessively over the muscles of Lex’s chest, seemingly so affectionate but primed for betrayal, cold-blooded murder…

His eyes narrowed. “Let’s go.”

***

It had been a long time since Clark had been in a store ‘for the obscenely filthy rich only.’ He didn’t find the experience any more enjoyable than he had when he was teenager.

The whole process hadn’t changed much. He walked through some half-hidden door, revealed only by the fact that his companion was officially In The Know, to emerge in a shop with the world’s ugliest merchandise that was simultaneously so expensive anyone who could afford it would be personally insulted if they saw the price tag beforehand. There was always a pointy-nosed woman and a gay guy with weird piercings, both of whom took one look at his clothes and snorted. In the past, he’d always thought the gay guy gave him the eviler look, but this time Pointy Nose was the one trying to develop her own heat vision. Clark wondered if that that to do with the sex of the rich person who’d brought him in off the street.

Then Pointy Nose and Gay Guy would proceed to pretend he was invisible, while showering attention on his wealthy benefactor. Clark would hover about in the background impotently as items that were markedly less atrocious than those on display were brought forward for inspection. Clark had often wondered if the tasteless stuff was out front to weed out any potential riffraff that might walk in.

“I’ve got the perfect dress for you for the wedding, Ms. Graves,” Pointy Nose was cooing, as Clark apparently vanished into the woodwork. “I think I’ve solved the problem of your shoulder holster.”

Mercy grunted like she didn’t like this place much more than Clark did. He’d done enough investigating into LexCorp stock to know that she was easily independently wealthy enough to deserve all the fawning, but Clark was willing to bet that she would never set foot in a place like this, except for the fact that she had to accompany Lex everywhere.

Lex had always _loved_ shopping. He’d loved trying to dress up Clark even more. Clark had wondered for a while whether he could have averted Lex’s whole evil supervillain period if he’d just graciously allowed Lex to buy him $2000 jeans back then. In the end, he’d decided that it was probably best for his sanity not to think about such things.

Mercy was physically hijacked to one side to try on dresses, while Clark continued to act as some sort of modern sculpture right in the middle of the room. He took the opportunity to scan the place with his x-ray vision. No lead walls, security guards, or evil fiancées were around as far as the eye could see.

Mercy was giving him a hopeful look, since disaster was pretty much the only thing that could save her from alterations at this point. Gay Guy was standing about ten feet away from her, tisking impatiently, while Pointy Nose worked around a complicated series of straps and folds that covered Mercy’s weapon, allowed for easy access, and managed to conceal the bulk of the semi-automatic entirely.

Clark had to wonder at people who didn’t find it at all odd when a woman walked in and said, “I need a way to carry a concealed gun at my boss’ wedding.” Apologetically, he shook his head at Mercy, letting her know that no escape plan was imminent.

Mercy’s eyes narrowed before an evil little smile curled her lips. “He needs something for the wedding, as well.”

Clark’s eyes widened, and he took a horrified step back.

Necks swiveling in a way that he’d only seen in Terminator movies, Pointy Nose and Gay Guy turned to face him.

“Oh, no…” He held up his hands defensively as they closed in on him in a classic pincer attack. This was it; all of this had been part of Lex’s latest nefarious plan to kill him via snooty boutique. He felt his entire body freeze and his mind melt into pudding. Lex had finally discovered his other hidden weakness. It was the only explanation.

After last night, he’d concluded that he never, ever wanted to see Vivian DeLisle again. He’d been wrong. Because, right now, an excuse to run off and thwart Lex’s latest evil fiancée was like a gift from the gods above.

Mercy stiffened when she saw one of Lex’s seemingly endless fleet of limos pull up outside. “Do you have this in last season’s style?” She picked up a purse at random.

The request saved Clark from Pointy Nose and Gay Guy as they both dashed to the far back of the store.

“That request _always_ takes hours to fill,” Mercy informed him.

Clark breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I’ve got the door.”

Mercy nodded and ducked into what Clark assumed was a dressing room as the party from Lex’s limo made their way to the door. The glass was tinted to block outsiders from seeing in, but not vice-versa. It was probably the first thing that worked to their advantage since this whole mission to save Lex had begun.

One of the bodyguards preceded Vivian. Clark whisked him away and stored his unconscious body behind the counter faster than the eye could see. Then, Vivian entered, and after her the second bodyguard. Clark swept in behind Vivian and dealt with that guard in the same way. He welded the door handle shut with his heat vision, just for good measure, before fleeing behind a row of the ugliest sweaters he’d ever laid eyes on.

Mercy emerged, the barrel of her gun pressed squarely against the back of Vivian’s head. Mission accomplished. Clark breathed a sigh of relief.

Vivian froze a second too late and realized she was trapped. “You certainly are persistent.” She managed to sound both meek and annoyed at the same time. It was kind of impressive. “I’ll grant you that.”

Mercy’s lip curled into a cold sneer. “You think this is persistence?” she retorted. “I haven’t even begun.”

Vivian had the nerve to yawn and then primped her hair. She turned, seemingly unconcerned by the crazed, immoral bodyguard with the gun, until she was facing Mercy eye-to-eye.

Clark saw Mercy’s hand tremble like she wanted to pull the trigger but was unable to.

“You won’t do it,” Vivian said haughtily. “Because at the end of the day, Lex loves _me_ and you’re just some gutter trash he pulled in off the street.”

Mercy’s hand was _shaking_ now, like she and Vivian were fighting an invisible battle. “What are you?” she hissed.

“Does it really matter?” Vivian smiled a viciously catty little smile.

Mercy managed to steady herself enough to cock the hammer. “What. Are. You?”

Vivian sighed, like Mercy was the most wearying person she’d ever met. Clark thought that too, but mostly because Mercy tried to beat him up any time they ran into each other. “Drop the gun,” she commanded.

Mercy half did it before she managed to stop herself. And then, while Mercy was still struggling, Vivian’s hand whipped out and backhanded her across the room.

Clark was out of his hiding place and upon her before she could strike Mercy again. He’d _never_ seen anyone hit Mercy that fast and that hard before. Whatever Vivian was, she wasn’t human.

Vivian tensed when Clark caught her around the waist from behind, and she tried to squirm free with more strength than Clark would have given her credit for, even after he’d seen what she did to Mercy. However, there were definite advantages to being Superman, and he still held her easily.

Vivian slumped then, relaxing back against him, before her voice took on that haunting cadence from the night before. “I asked him about you last night,” she cooed, and Clark felt a wave of foolish hope wash through him. “He told me that _I’m_ the one he loves. You were just a passing fancy, a challenge to be conquered and tossed aside.” As soon as the hope rose, it crashed down into despair. “The only thing he wants from you,” she dropped her voice, and Clark couldn’t help but lean in to listen, desperate for _anything_ , “is to watch you die.”

A sob choked him up, and his grip wavered just as Vivian kicked free, spinning to face him with superspeed, eyes flashing an unholy pale blue.

Clark probably just would’ve stood there completely helpless if Mercy hadn’t woken up in time to dive to his rescue yet again. This time _she_ caught Vivian from behind, and what she lacked in superstrength, she more than made up for by twisting Vivian’s arm painfully behind her back.

“I’ll see to it that he throws you back out on the street!” Vivian screeched in pain.

“Nice try,” Mercy actually _growled_ , “but I’m not a scared kid anymore.”

Vivian’s pain apparently broke her control over Clark, because with a quick shake of his head he was back in the game. “No, seriously,” he demanded, suddenly really fucking _pissed_ at the way she kept toying with his emotions. “What _are_ you?”

Vivian hissed as Mercy wrenched her arm in time with the question. “ _You’re_ one to cast stones, Kryptonian!” she spat. “You have no more right to be here than I do.”

“You’re an alien?”

“What did you think?”

Mercy snorted. “You have _no_ idea how many possibilities there were…”

Vivian’s expression turned nasty. “It’s not my fault your boss is a slut.”

The world turned red. Clark didn’t know where the sudden rage had come from. But, before he even knew what he’d done, he caught Vivian under the chin with a vicious uppercut. Her head snapped back, and he had a moment of pure, unadulterated terror that he’d killed her before she laughed raggedly, silver-white blood trickling from the corner of her mouth but otherwise unhurt.

“You’re pathetic,” she informed him. “Immoral, _unnatural_ creature!”

Mercy twisted her arm again. Clark thought he should be offended that that seemed to cause her more pain than a blow from Superman.

Instead of rising to the bait, he gritted his teeth and continued the interrogation. “Fine, you’re an alien. What species?”

“Does it matter?” Vivian demanded.

“Yes.” Clark and Mercy answered in perfect surround sound. At any other time Clark would’ve been kind of freaked that he and Mercy were so in tune. But, after that crack Vivian had made about Lex, the idea didn’t bother him at all.

“Whatever.” Vivian just sounded annoyed now. She flailed a bit in Mercy’s grasp but didn’t break free. “I’m Xthl’thz’nk.”

“Gesundheit.”

Mercy glared at Clark. “Stopping screwing around, Kal-El.”

“Do _you_ want to interrogate her?” Clark retorted.

“Actually, yes.” It seemed that Mercy just was being pissy for pissiness’ sake, though, because she let him continue.

“And the Xthl’thz’nk are what? Planning an invasion of Earth?”

“What?” Vivian looked genuinely puzzled at that. “No. Where would you get that idea?”

Clark frowned. “Then why are you marrying Lex?”

“Because I’ve entered the Xanga Cycle and my transport ship won’t be by for another two decades.”

“Huh?” Clark had picked up over a hundred different languages on Earth and beyond over his lifetime, but that had sounded like Swahili which, as it turned out, wasn’t nearly as bizarre sounding as the saying would have one believe. In fact, he was fluent in Swahili. It was probably best to just toss that whole analogy out the window.

Vivian rolled her eyes like he was a complete idiot. “I need to mate,” she clarified.

“So…you’re not marrying Lex so that you can murder him for his money?” Clark frowned. That just didn’t seem right.

Mercy frowned as well, like the concept was just as foreign to her.

“Well…” Vivian got a shifty look in her eyes.

Clark breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps the world wasn’t ending after all. “Well?” he prompted her.

“It will probably be fatal when I lay my eggs in Lex’s brain. And, if not then, he’ll certainly die when they hatch and eat it.”

“What?” Clark and Mercy screamed in unison.

Vivian just shrugged sheepishly.


	5. Chapter 5

“Well, how else are the larvae going to hatch?” Vivian demanded testily, still struggling in Mercy’s grip.

Clark started coughing so hard he thought he was going to keel over and die. “You’re going to lay eggs in Lex’s brain?” he finally screeched in horror.

Vivian got a dreamy expression on her face. “He has such a nice, big, squishy brain. It should provide plenty of nourishment for our larvae.”

Mercy twisted Vivian’s arm extra hard for good measure.

“Ow!” Vivian exclaimed.

“I think this might be worse than the plague-controlling wife.” Clark was still coughing in disbelief.

“Hell, it might be worse than _Lana_.” Mercy shivered.

Vivian puffed up her chest in outrage. “It is a great honor for any mere human to host a clutch of Xthl’thz’nk eggs,” she insisted primly.

Clark started coughing again.

“Do you need me to hit you on the back?” Mercy demanded. The narrowing of her eyes let him know only too well that Mercy was looking forward to the opportunity, as was her Evil Kryptonite Laser.

Clark stopped coughing. “But _why_?” he demanded of Vivian instead.

“Why what?”

“Why marry Lex? Why not just…” He gesticulated wildly in a way that probably had very little to do with the mechanics of laying eggs in someone’s brain, but then what did he know?

Vivian let out an outraged exclamation. “Maybe on this sinful planet you do things that way. But on Xthl’thz’nk, we _never_ lay eggs in the brain before marriage!”

“Oh, right. Of course. Because heaven forbid your brain-eating larvae should be _bastards_.” Clark wondered if he was going insane. He met Mercy’s gaze over Vivian’s shoulder. Since Mercy’s expression was pretty much identical to the way he felt, he fortified himself with the knowledge that, no, Vivian was the crazy one.

“Apology accepted,” Vivian granted smoothly.

“Then I guess there’s just one more question,” Clark concluded. “Why pick Lex? There have to be thousands of other eligible bachelors who would draw less attention.”

“I told you,” Vivian insisted. “His brain will provide ample sustenance for our larvae. And…”

“And?”

“Well, okay, fine,” Vivian grumbled. “And also for the money.”

Clark and Mercy breathed a collective sigh of relief as the universe restored itself to the proper order: Lex’s crazy wife wanted to kill him for his money. Sure, the plan detoured through a very bizarre spot with brain-eating, _legitimate_ , alien larvae, but that was all secondary. Now it was just business as usual.

“We have to kill her,” Mercy concluded. Clark was pretty sure she tried to snap Vivian’s neck then and there, but it didn’t work.

“Hey!” Clark protested. “We can’t just murder someone like that!”

Mercy blinked at him in disbelief. “Did you miss the part where she wants to lay _eggs_ in Lex’s _brain_?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Clark insisted, pulling the recorder from his pocket. “I’ve got this all on tape. When Lex hears it—”

“Of course he’ll be completely sane and reasonable. Like you were last night.”

“Hey!” Clark protested. “I was _fine_ until you pistol-whipped me!”

“You were _blubbering_!”

Clark glared at Mercy. Mercy glared at Clark. Things were pleasantly normal for a few moments and then, somehow, Vivian used Mercy’s distraction to break free.

Mercy lashed out instantly, her foot connecting with the side of Vivian’s head. The blow did nothing, and Mercy let out a startled shriek as Vivian caught her by the foot and threw her headlong into the far wall.

Clark caught her in an instant, but Vivian _swiveled_ somehow so that her lips were right against his ear and whispered, “He doesn’t love you. He’s _never_ loved you.”

Clark fell to the floor, crying, head cradled in his hands as he rocked back and forth.

With a self-satisfied little huff, Vivian straightened her dress. She twisted the doorknob savagely, effectively ruining Clark’s makeshift weld-job from earlier, and walked right out of the boutique. Clark could hear her limo drive away…

“Just like Lex is driving out of my life!” he wailed in abject woe.

Across the room, Mercy regained consciousness and groaned. “Not _again_! I’m going to kill that bitch…”

“B-But Lex _loves_ her!” Clark protested.

“Have you _already_ forgotten the part where she’s trying to lay eggs in his brain?”

“You know,” Clark countered sanctimoniously, “you may be good at guarding Lex’s body, but you _suck_ at guarding his heart!”

“God, kill me now…” Mercy’s head fell down into her palms.

Clark sniffled some more. “So, are you going to fix me or what?”

Mercy’s gaze turned wicked.

“Not the Kryptonite!” he requested feebly.

She pistol-butted him with the Phantom Zone Laser. Clark suspected that Mercy was actually beginning to like him.

***

Lex Luthor let out a shriek of alarm when he was lifted off the pavement on his way out of the LexCorp Labs division on 48th Street. The shriek quickly turned to vivid vituperation and the usual round of death threats. Clark was pretty sure that Kryptonite couldn’t actually do what Lex had promised in that last one, but he winced anyway.

He finally set Lex down, squirming against Clark in a way that was actually kind of pleasant, atop the Daily Planet. It was safest that way; Lex couldn’t run for the fire escape without having to pass dozens of floors of reporters on his way out. If there was one thing Lex hated more than Superman, it was reporters.

“Thanks ever so for the unwanted detour,” Lex snapped, nervously readjusting his suit. “The assassination attempt on my fiancée was also appreciated.”

Clark held his hands up defensively. “That was all Mercy. I just wanted to talk.”

“And where is Mercy now?” Lex’s eyes flicked about the rooftop systematically.

“Out.”

“Out?”

“She said this was a bad idea. So I waited until she went out.”

“And then kidnapped me.”

“Well, yeah. Kinda.”

Lex gave him a very unamused little smile. “What do you want, Kal-El?”

Clark took a step closer. Lex didn’t step back. Clark’s cape billowed around them both, almost like it was trying to tangle them together. “Vivian’s trying to kill you. You can’t marry her.”

“Oh?” Lex raised one perfectly skeptical eyebrow and stepped into Clark’s personal space so that their faces were only inches apart. “Prove it.”

Clark held up the tape recorder and hit play. Lex listened to Vivian’s entire recorded confession with a supremely disinterested expression on his face. Clark finally hit stop after the conversation deteriorated to the sounds of Mercy getting beaten up and him blubbering. Lex’s eyes met his in time with the click of the stop button, sharp and intense all of a sudden.

“So you’re calling off the wedding, right?” Clark demanded.

“Because she’s trying to kill me for my money?” Lex countered.

Clark frowned. It seemed like Lex was… _searching_ for something in his eyes, but Clark didn’t have the foggiest idea what that might be. “Do you really need a better reason?”

Lex pursed his lips and considered that like it was a very interesting and deep question. “What other alternative do I have?” he finally asked.

“Uh… Not to have evil alien eggs hatching in your brain?”

“Hmm.” Lex’s head tilted to one side, and he looked up at Clark through half-closed eyelids. “Do you honestly believe that I can do better?”

“Uh…” Clark’s knee-jerk reaction was to say yes, because how could anyone do _worse_? But then he remembered Lex’s track record, and the evidence seemed to be against him.

“At least this one wants me for my brain.”

Clark’s fingers itched like there was _really_ something he should be doing right now. “And your money,” he reminded Lex.

“Who _doesn’t_ want me for my money?” Lex’s eyes took on that impossible intensity that had reduced Clark to a fumbling idiot throughout all his teenage years. It turned out Lex’s gaze could _still_ do that to him.

He couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

“I thought as much,” Lex said half to himself. He turned and headed for the rooftop entrance.

“Wait, there are reporters down there. Let me fly you home.” Clark’s words came back to him in a rush now that it was too late.

Lex snorted. “What would be the point?” And shut the door behind him.

Clark stared, completely flummoxed, at the closed door before he finally took off back to his apartment. Obviously, Vivian was controlling Lex’s mind and making him entirely irrational. There was absolutely _nothing_ else at play here. Clark would break Vivian’s hold over Lex, and then Lex would be free, and they could go back to hating each other as per usual. Simple and easy.

Right?

Right.

***

“We are _not_ pistol-butting Lex!”

“It works on me,” Clark insisted.

“Yeah, but you’re not my boss. It kind of defeats the point of me being Lex’s _bodyguard_ , if I beat him up.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous. It’s the only way we’ve found to break Vivian’s mind-control.”

Mercy considered that. “Beating _her_ up seemed to help. Physical pain must break the telepathic link somehow.”

“Yeah, where ‘somehow’ means that I’m too busy thinking ‘ow!’ to be affected,” Clark shot back.

“We should just kill her to be on the safe side.”

“If we kill her, then we’re no better than…” Clark trailed off.

Mercy put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently.

The ‘we’re no better than Lex’ speech kind of didn’t work when he was talking to Lex’s own private security force. Clark made note of that for any future debates.

“Fine,” Clark concluded. “Then how _do_ we bring Lex back to his senses?”

Strategy time was interrupted by a knock on Clark’s door. Clark froze, eyes wide, as he x-rayed through the wood paneling to find that – holy shit! – Sandy The Downstairs Neighbor From Hell was out there and had him cornered.

“Don’t open the—!” Clark began to warn Mercy.

Too late, though. Mercy had opened the door.

On the other side, Sandy froze, mid-knock, looking thoroughly startled at the sight of Mercy. Then, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Who are _you_?” she demanded angrily.

Maybe Clark was feeling suicidal after his attempt to talk some sense into Lex had failed, or maybe he was just an opportunist and _completely_ out of his mind. Whatever the case, some crazy part of him decided to go for it.

“Hey, Sandy, this is Mercy.” He looped an arm around Mercy’s shoulders causing her to jump about six inches off the ground. “Mercy, my neighbor Sandy.”

Sandy’s eyes narrowed to a precision that could sear a hole right through Mercy’s forehead.

Mercy’s expression was almost identical, except _she_ was trying to burn a flaming hole through Clark’s hand on her shoulder. “Move it or lose it,” she informed him icily.

Clark’s hand snapped back instantly.

Sandy smiled in triumph.

Clark gulped.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “The ceiling light in my bedroom has gone out, and I can’t reach it. I hope you don’t mind. Especially since I let you use my computer yesterday.”

Inwardly, Clark was screaming.

To his complete and unabashed surprise, Mercy stepped in to save the day. “We’re already late for an important stockholder meeting,” she informed Sandy in a manner so professional it was downright scary.

“Stockholder meeting?” Sandy looked skeptically at Clark. “Aren’t you a reporter?”

“A stockholder meeting which Mr. Kent has been invited to cover,” Mercy lied smoothly. Clark was pretty impressed; the stockholder thing would inevitably _always_ work for Lex, yet Mercy had managed to adapt it for him without even blinking. Mercy fixed Clark with an impatient stare. “Have you found your keys yet?”

Clark lunged for his keys and briefcase, catching her drift. “Got ‘em!”

“We’re already late then,” she snapped before smiling sweetly at Sandy. “If you could step aside, please.”

Sandy, looking rather forlorn, did so.

Clark fled after Mercy who, much to his chagrin, never broke into a run once. They escaped to Mercy’s car at long last, and Clark let out a huge sigh of relief when they pulled safely away from Clark’s building.

“That was annoying,” Mercy commented.

“She’ll be waiting for us to get back.”

“We’ll have to use Protocol 14, then.”

“Protocol 14?”

“Climb in through the window.”

“You couldn’t just _say_ ‘climb in through the window’?”

“That tends to defeat the purpose of climbing in through the window, if the floozy you’re trying to avoid is within earshot.”

Clark snorted. “This happens to Lex a lot, I take it?”

Mercy rolled her eyes and pulled out onto Washington Avenue. Apparently, they were driving around first to add verisimilitude to Mercy’s story. Clark figured Lex and Mercy had gotten lots of practice being overly anal about adding elements of plausible deniability into all their lies. “You have no idea,” she sighed.

Clark grinned. “I’m just impressed that Lex finally learned how to say no.”

Mercy glared at him. “They’re not his type.”

“Like Vivian.”

“She’s definitely not his type.”

“Yeah, the blonde thing kind of freaks me out, too. I mean, has Lex _ever_ dated a blonde before?”

Mercy blinked and repeated very slowly. “ _She_ is not his type.”

There was something weird about the emphasis there, like Clark was missing something. “I don’t know,” he finally retorted thoughtfully. “She’s an idiot, just like all his other wives.”

“An idiot?” Mercy pulled into Central Park and checked her watch. It seemed they were just going to sit there until their ‘meeting’ ran out. She smiled to herself and pulled out a PDA, checking off several items that Clark couldn’t quite make out. “I’ve called Lex’s wives many things, but never idiots. They usually nearly succeed in taking over the world…”

“They’re still _idiots_ ,” Clark insisted.

Mercy looked over at him skeptically.

“Well, they _are_!” he muttered, feeling somewhat sullen for having to defend his position. “Just think about it: they’re married to _Lex_ , and the best thing they can think of to do is try to kill him for his money?”

“And power.”

Clark brushed that off dismissively. “It’s like getting a birthday present and throwing out the actual gift, just to keep the wrapping paper.”

Mercy blinked.

Clark was on a roll, now that his ire was up. “It’s insane! _Nine_ women now have had a shot at having _Lex_ , and they’ve _all_ thrown him away for money and power? What are they _thinking_? They have the chance to fall asleep with Lex every night, wake up next to him every morning. They can touch him, kiss him, _hold_ him, whenever they want. They can listen to his historical rants and tease him about all his silly scientific projects, and they don’t even have to break through his security to get to him.”

Mercy was staring at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, like he was crazy or something.

Clark blushed in response, suddenly realizing that maybe that speech of his had been a little weird. “I’m just saying,” he grumbled, slumping as far down in his seat as he could go. “They could have _Lex_. Some people would give anything for that. _All_ his deranged ex-wives are too dumb to realize what they could have had.”

Mercy's left eye twitched.

“And that’s _terrible_!” Clark insisted.

Mercy coughed pointedly. “I’m going to work now.” She pointed to her PDA.

“Fine.” Clark opened the briefcase he’d grabbed on the way out. This seemed as good a time as any to write his article on the latest city council scandal.

He’d only been working for maybe five minutes though, when he caught Mercy studying him with a thoughtful expression out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” he demanded.

Mercy instantly turned back to her own work. “Nothing.”

“Well, all right then,” Clark huffed.

“Fine,” Mercy huffed right back.

“Fine.”

“Whatever.”

“You started it.”

“Will you shut up already?”

“I will when you— Ow!”

“Don’t blame me. You were asking for it.”

“ _Ow_ ,” Clark insisted, sullenly rubbing his head.


	6. Chapter 6

“We’ve got to stop that wedding!”

Mercy groaned, head in hand. “Would you stop saying that, already? I feel like I’m in a freaking romantic comedy.”

“You watch romantic comedies?” Clark asked skeptically.

Mercy shuddered. “ _Lex_ watches romantic comedies,” she corrected, “and then I’m trapped watching them too.”

Clark winced. “My condolences.”

Mercy grunted and twisted uncomfortably in front of the mirror. Pointy Nose and Gay Guy had sent Mercy’s dress for the wedding over by courier that morning. Mercy managed to look like Barbarella in blue taffeta in it, which was really quite an accomplishment. “We need a plan,” Mercy concluded.

“We’ve got to stop that wedding!” Clark repeated, mostly because he knew it would really piss Mercy off.

“You’ll have to wear the spandex,” Mercy continued critically, holstering her Evil Kryptonite Laser.

“Slight problem,” Clark pointed out. “Lex uninvited me.”

Mercy snorted. “He’s said that for _every_ wedding since number four.”

“So?”

“So, has he ever actually gone through with it?”

Clark frowned at that. “Huh. No. That’s weird for Lex. He’s usually more efficient about those kinds of things.”

“Yes. He is.” Mercy looked at him in a Deeply Meaningful Way.

Unfortunately, all that capitalized Meaning was completely lost on Clark. “But he’ll have Clark Kent on this guest list,” Clark insisted, “not Superman.” The source of this debate was, of course, the only tuxedo Clark owned, which had caused Mercy to go slightly green when she saw it. Apparently, Lex’s snobbery was catching.

“He’ll have both,” Mercy insisted. “He always does.”

“It’s like he _wants_ his weddings to be sabotaged,” Clark chuckled to himself.

Mercy coughed.

He rather graciously offered her a glass of water.

She declined.

“So,” Clark prodded, “we go in, and…then what?”

“We kill Vivian.”

Clark winced. Now that he was feeling more in control of his senses, the thought didn’t cause him to break out into torrents of tears, but _still_. “We can’t do that.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

“Couldn’t we just banish her to a deserted island or something?” he asked hopefully.

Mercy’s lip curled. “Hey, yeah!” she agreed with superb sarcasm. “Why don’t we just tell her she’s been very bad and ask her to go sit in the corner? I’m sure she’ll instantly repent her wicked, wicked ways.”

Clark crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “You don’t have to be snippy about it.”

“Yes, I really do.”

There was nothing he could say to that. “Look,” he suggested, “there are courts that can handle this.”

“Is laying eggs in someone’s brain even technically illegal?” Mercy’s face scrunched up as she considered the question. “If not, that’s a pretty grievous oversight…”

“ _Intergalactic_ courts,” Clark clarified. “If we can just disable her and hand her over to the Lantern Corps…”

“Because that’s so much easier that just killing her. Much less of a risk to Lex, too,” Mercy retorted dryly.

“Well, I’m not helping you if you kill her.” Clark recrossed his arms over his chest just for good measure. He’d _known_ earlier that he’d used up his one shot for this dramatic gesture too soon, but it was always so hard to resist. “Plus, do you even know how? You tried to snap her neck, and it didn’t work.”

“She didn’t react when you punched her in the face, either,” Mercy mused. “Assuming that not every alien species is so improbable as to look exactly like humans—”

“Hey!”

“—Vivian probably looks quite different in reality and is altering her physical appearance to blend in on Earth. It stands to reason, then, that what we see as her head might not be a particularly vital organ.”

All offense aside, Mercy was actually making a decent amount of sense. “So?”

“So, she _did_ react when I twisted her arm. That seems to be the place to strike to incapacitate her,” she concluded.

It was somewhat frightening how well Lex had his bodyguards versed in tracking down alien weaknesses. “But we’re still not killing her, right?” Clark demanded.

“Of course not.”

Clark was willing to bet his apartment, his secret identity, and the Fortress of Solitude that Mercy was lying through her teeth. “Pull the other one, why don’t you?” He regretted yet again that his arms were already crossed. He _really_ needed another form of sarcastic body language, stat.

She tried not to look like she was sulking in response. “Fine, we’ll try it your way. But if it comes down to her life or Lex’s, all bets are off.”

“Deal.” Clark held out his hand to shake on it.

Mercy raised a skeptical eyebrow like she couldn’t believe how old-fashioned he was, but she shook his hand anyway.

Clark grinned. “Now, we’ve got to stop that wedding!”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “I never promised I wouldn’t kill _you_ , you know…” But even Clark could tell it was an empty threat.

***

One of the many and varied weird aspects of Lex’s personality was the fact that, no matter how many weddings he had, he always threw a huge, expensive, overblown gala, like if he pretended hard enough with his money, this latest marriage was _bound_ to work. Lex had always had a bit of a problem confusing expense with love, and it made Clark want to bundle him off and explain in excruciating detail that _real_ love didn’t require money or obligations, just two people who understood each other perfectly, matched each other in every aspect of their lives, and were impossibly drawn together no matter what fate put between them.

Clark had told all this to Lex when he abducted him just before Wedding #6, and Lex had had this flushed expression on his face like Clark’s words were really sinking in for once. Then, Clark had assured Lex that one day he’d meet the woman that he felt that way about, and for some reason Lex had gone and married crazy Ex-Wife #6 anyway, almost as if to spite Clark. Lex had also been particularly vicious in coming up with schemes to murder Superman in the year that followed, like Clark had done something really bad to him or something. Completely baffling.

In any case, this wedding was no different from any of Lex’s other weddings, and it made Clark wince and shift uncomfortably in his suit. Not that his Superman suit was uncomfortable in any way, but Mercy looked so damned uncomfortable in her dress that Clark figured her annoyance was contagious.

“We have to find Vivian,” Mercy announced once security waved Superman in as being on the guest list, just as she’d promised.

Clark took great delight in giving Lionel a jaunty wave where he stood sulking next to his limo on the corner, while his security guys and Lex’s security guys tried to push each other around.

Lionel gave him the finger back. Clark _really_ hoped that one of the opportunistic tabloid reporters trying to worm their way in had gotten a good picture of that.

“Hey!” Mercy snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Pay attention.”

“Huh?”

Mercy rolled her eyes once they entered the main ballroom. “You check that way, I’ll check this way, and we’ll meet in the church.” She gestured appropriately.

Clark gulped and nodded. He’d grown very unfond of Vivian of late, and there was a marked difference between blubbering and making an ass of himself in front of Lex and Mercy (who, sadly, were some of the people on this planet who knew him best and he felt most comfortable around) and sobbing like a baby in full Superman regalia in front of hundreds of wedding guests. That would just be _embarrassing_.

Clark tried to sneak down the hallway surreptitiously and x-ray all the rooms, but being Superman was kind of the opposite of surreptitious, especially since he knew virtually everyone present, be they reporter, supervillain, or LexCorp lackey, and all of them wanted to chat it up with him.

Clark can’t gotten more than twenty feet when a man, who he was pretty sure went by Doctor Oblitero – although it was hard to tell when he wasn’t wearing his giant magnifying glass mask and bright green cape – wrapped an arm around his shoulders and started babbling in an overly chummy way.

“So, whaddaya say,” Doctor Oblitero slurred, waving his half empty martini about in his free hand, “is #9 finally going to be the charm?”

“Uh…” Clark had only met Doctor Oblitero once, very casually, while he’d been supervising Beast Boy in the field during his first year with the Teen Titans. Clark’s job had been mostly to stand by and make sure that Beast Boy didn’t end up dead. He didn’t think he and Doctor Oblitero had even talked, although he’d gotten into a bit of a bitch fight with Leopard Lady about how she was just ripping off Cheetah and Catwoman’s gig and not even doing a good job with it. But, apparently, alcohol bred familiarity, and now he and Doctor Oblitero were best buds.

Doctor Oblitero laughed, like it had been a rhetorical question all along. Which, of course, it had been. “C’mon, Big Blue,” he elbowed Clark in the side, “when are you going to put an end to all this nonsense and make an honest supervillain out of old Luthor?”

“ _Uh_ …” Clark’s confusion was increasing in pitch and intensity.

Doctor Oblitero winked. “We’re all rooting for you, Big Guy.” And he gave Clark a friendly slap on the ass.

Clark yelped and took to the air. Then he saw Mercy glaring at him down the hall, and he yelped again for good measure.

“I’ve been waiting!” she snapped, grabbing his wrist and dragging him back down to the ground. And, really, she shouldn’t have been able to do that, but Mercy was an adept at ignoring the laws of physics, Clark had noticed. “Did you find her?”

Clark shook his head.

Doctor Oblitero leaned drunkenly on Clark’s shoulder and grinned.

“You were supposed to be looking,” Mercy gave Doctor Oblitero a disgusted look, “not mingling!”

“A word of advice,” Doctor Oblitero whispered way too loudly into Clark’s ear. “Don’t sleep with the lackeys. It’s the fastest way to piss off the supervillain.” He nudged Clark and winked again.

At that point, Mercy bodily removed him, and Clark felt a momentary pang of jealousy for Lex, who could have annoying, disturbing people removed from his presence any time he wanted. Come to think of it, Clark probably could too, but his parents had raised him to mind his manners and, without Mercy, he’d probably have been stuck hanging out with Oblitero all night.

“Let’s go,” Mercy demanded, stalking off down the hallway. “There’s not much time left.” She tried to bore a hole through Oblitero’s skull with her eyes, and only had marginally less success that Clark would have.

Oblitero winced and promptly returned to the bar.

“No clue why Lex keeps inviting him,” Mercy was grumbling under her breath so quietly that only Clark’s superhearing allowed him to detect it. “ _Always_ gets drunk…”

They found, in their quest, two empty state rooms, the band, and two of the caterers making out in a closet.

“So sorry,” Clark blushed horribly, slamming that last door.

“You couldn’t have x-rayed it first?” Mercy demanded.

“It’s rude to x-ray without knocking,” Clark insisted huffily.

Mercy turned the knob to their right, which it turned out led to another hallway. “Jackpot,” she said with a malicious grin.

Clark followed her, doing his best to tiptoe after her. It was official after ten feet that stealth wasn’t going to work, and Mercy gave up her whole ninja, cat-prowl act and just stalked over to the first door and flew it open.

“Ah, Mercy,” Lex said calmly, adjusting his tie. “So glad you could make it.” He turned to face her. “Did you bring…?” He trailed off when he saw Clark. “Oh.”

“Where’s Vivian?” Mercy demanded.

Lex frowned at her. “Why do I have the feeling that we’ve had this conversation before? I must say, I didn’t enjoy it the first time, either.” He squirted the slightest bit of cologne into the air and stepped forward to let it hit the curve of his throat just right.

Clark fought the sudden, irrational urge to moan aloud.

“We could always just kidnap _you_ ,” Mercy mused, considering for a moment. “She can’t marry you, if you don’t show up.”

“I like this plan,” Clark agreed. “This is a good plan.” And it was. It meant that he didn’t have to face Vivian, and he’d have his arms full of warm, wriggling Lex again before the day was over. Things were definitely looking up.

Lex raised an imperious eyebrow. “There is something you’ve overlooked, however.”

Clark frowned.

Mercy reacted, but not in time. Clark winced when the crack on the bludgeon sounded, and Mercy slumped forward onto the floor, unconscious.

“That wasn’t very nice!” Clark protested. “She was just trying to…”

But then the world suddenly went green and dizzy. Clark fell to his knees, clutching at his stomach to fight the nausea. He barely had the energy to tilt his head up enough to see that Vivian, dressed head to toe in white lace, was the one who’d knocked Mercy out. On her finger, she was wearing Lex’s old Kryptonite ring.

“I don’t believe I ever had the chance to show you my engagement ring,” Vivian cooed, practically wafting into the room on a cloud of ridiculously long white fabric. “I asked Lex for this one specially.”

She held out her hand, and Lex went to her, looking dazed and very much hypnotized.

Clark fought the urge to retch.

“What do you say, Lex? I think these two have tried to ruin our happy day too much already.” She pouted, and Clark wanted to slap her, because no _way_ would Lex ever have gone for something that ridiculous and cutesy had he been in possession of his mind.

“I suppose…” Lex frowned slightly as he looked down at Clark and Mercy, like something was bothering him.

Clark felt a sudden surge of hope at that. “Lex, fight her,” he pleaded. “I know you can do it.” Really, it _was_ ridiculous. Lex could withstand any and all of J’onn’s attempts at telepathic invasion, but he caved this easily to some simpering bimbo? Not the Lex Clark knew… “Please, Lex,” he croaked.

Lex’s eyes softened for a moment as he looked down at Clark, and he licked his lips slowly. “Clark…?” he whispered, as if waking up from a dream.

“No!” Vivian pouted. “Me! You’re supposed to listen to _me_!”

“She’s not the one,” Clark pleaded, encouraged by Lex’s sudden mutiny. “She’s not even _brunette_!”

Lex shook his head, but his eyes were clearing. Clark _knew_ that argument was flawless. “But I… You…” He sighed wistfully as he gazed at Clark’s collapsed body.

“There will be someone else,” Clark promised. “Some day, you’ll meet her.”

And, like that, Lex’s mind slammed back off, like Clark had said something horribly wrong all over again. “Vivian, love?” he all but purred.

Vivian simpered smugly into his arms, still wearing her Kryptonite ring. “Yes, Lexie?”

At that, Clark _did_ retch.

“I think you’re right. I think I have no use for these two, after all.”

Vivian smiled a haughty little smile. “Then I think you should dispose of them.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “For me?”

“As a wedding present,” Lex agreed. And he kicked Clark’s head.

Clark’s one glimmer of hope before he blacked out was that, at least if Lex was coming up for the means of their death, it would be long, contorted, and would inevitably give them lots of time to escape.

After all, it _was_ Lex.


	7. Chapter 7

“Ha!” Clark exclaimed triumphantly. “I _knew_ it!”

Clark had just woken up to discover, to his delight, that he and Mercy were both tied up back-to-back with Kryptonite chains, dangling above the giant shark tank twenty feet below. The other end of the chain was attached to some elaborate device that involved stones rolling at regular intervals and a giant winch. There seemed to be some sort of contorted timing mechanism, with blue and green blinking lights, that released one stone at a time, which in turn rotated the winch so that they were jerked one foot further down and closer to the shark tank. As usual, Lex had absolutely no respect for the category violation involved in combining medieval torture devices with modern technology.

“Don’t freak out,” Clark sighed with relief at the ridiculously Rube Goldbergian death contraption, “but I’m sort of in love with your boss right now…”

“There’s a real shocker,” Mercy retorted. Clark could hear her roll her eyes, even with his superhearing disabled due to the Kryptonite.

“No, seriously,” Clark argued. “Who else would have a device like this set up at their own wedding?”

Mercy was silent for a moment. “It probably would be cheaper if we didn’t have to import the great whites every time…” She sounded thoughtful.

“Exactly!” Clark agreed happily. “Now we just have to thwart Lex’s evil death trap!” _This_ was something he was actually good at.

“Swing?” Mercy suggested.

“Swing.”

***

The problem with the ‘swing out of the tank’ technique was that the only way to start swinging was to flail a lot. Mercy had tried kicking Clark really hard to get a good lift-off, but that had just resulted in them spinning around really fast.

They finally actually managed to start swinging when they were about ten feet above the water below. And, once they got started, they built up steam well enough. They swung wider and wider and…

 _SPLAT!_

Clark smacked right into the inside of the shark tank. “Uh, Mercy?” he winced when they swung back to center.

“Yeah?”

“I think we’re too low now to swing out of the tank.”

Another rock rolled from the contraption, and they jerked a foot lower. Fortunately, it also jerked them out of their swinging motion enough that they lost momentum and didn’t slam into the tank again when they swung back the other way.

Mercy’s body shook like she was trying to overcome some powerful emotion. “No, really?” she finally commented snidely. “What was your first clue?”

“Probably when I smacked into the glass,” Clark decided.

Mercy sighed, like she was hyperventilating or something.

“Are you okay?” Clark asked, concerned.

The contraption turned, and they fell another foot.

“I’m eight feet above a shark tank.” Mercy’s voice was strained. “I think that’s about as far away from ‘okay’ as you can get.”

“That’s all right,” Clark concluded. “Once we’re in the water, we just have to kick the sharks in the nose.”

“Kick them in the nose?” Mercy sounded incredulous.

“Batman says it works for him all the time,” Clark nodded.

“Batman says this?”

“Batman is a scientist,” Clark explained helpfully.

“And all this time we thought Bruce was the _smart_ one,” Mercy sighed with frustration. She banged her head back against Clark’s for lack of anything else to bang it up against, but it didn’t really hurt. Clark thought that it was very considerate of Lex to use just enough Kryptonite to disable Clark’s powers but not so much that he was in pain. Really, these Kryptonite chains were almost comfy…

Just then, Clark picked up muttering the hallway. His superhearing must have been down, because Mercy seemed to hear it at the same time.

“…You think _you_ have an evil lab?” the voice slurred, and there was some crashing in the hallway. “I’ll show you an evil lab…”

The door at the far end of the lab swung open, and in stumbled Doctor Oblitero, who seemed to be having an animated argument with the bottle of Scotch he was carrying.

“Now _this_ ,” Oblitero held out the bottle so that it could see the lab, “is what an evil lab lookth like!”

He promptly slumped against the control mechanism for their death trap and took another swig of Scotch.

Clark and Mercy exchanged a look.

“Hey, Oblitero!” Mercy called out in the sweetest sounding voice she could manage. She ended up sounding about as sweet as a vicious attack dog on a leash. At the same moment, the device turned, and they dropped another foot.

Seven to go.

Oblitero was startled by the sound and movement, looking around confusedly for a few moments. He didn’t seem to be able to spot Clark and Mercy, despite the fact that Clark was wearing a giant red cape.

“Whose arch-nemesis is this yokel again?” Mercy grumbled.

“Aquaman’s, I think…”

Mercy snorted. “Figures.” Then she called out, trying to sound nice again. “Hey, Arvin! Up here!”

“ _Arvin_?” Clark coughed in disbelief.

“Shut up,” Mercy hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “This guy is our only chance.”

“I still think we’re better off kicking the sharks…”

Mercy kicked _him_.

Doctor Oblitero’s first name was, apparently, Arvin, because he looked up at that and then began waving drunkenly at them, like there was absolutely nothing unusual about seeing Superman and Lex Luthor’s bodyguard chained together over a shark tank.

Actually, given the lives that most masked crusaders – both good and evil – led, it probably wasn’t that strange, Clark conceded.

“Hi, Arvin, nice to see you,” Mercy sounded like she was trying to be pleasant, but Clark could hear her gritting her teeth.

“Then why aren’t you waving back?” Oblitero pouted.

“I’m kind of chained to Superman over a shark tank, you know?” Mercy practically hissed.

“Oh, yeah.” Oblitero took another chug of Scotch. “Bummer.”

They fell another foot.

“It _really_ is,” Mercy agreed sweetly. “I don’t suppose you could help us out?”

Oblitero smiled and nodded drunkenly for a second, before something occurred to him. “I don’t know…” he said apologetically. “It looks like someone went to a lot of trouble here. I wouldn’t want to piss off Lex. He’s got…” Oblitero looked around furtively before his voice dropped to an overly-loud whisper. “ _Lawyers_!”

Clark shuddered. He’d _seen_ Lex’s lawyers. They’d once sent an entire invasion from the planet Evillorius off screaming. It had been pretty terrifying.

“But Arvin,” Mercy cooed. It was a truly terrifying sound. “I’m Lex’s bodyguard. He won’t get mad if you let _me_ go, I promise.”

Another drop. Five feet to go.

Oblitero frowned. “But you’re tied up to _Superman_!” he argued, quite logically for a drunk person. Clark was actually very impressed.

“But Oblitero – _Arvin_ ,” Clark chimed in, batting his eyelashes, “remember what we talked about earlier? Lex would _want_ me to be at his wedding. To, you know, make him an honest supervillain and all.”

Mercy sounded like she was choking.

Oblitero nodded very seriously at this, however. “Mmkay,” he finally agreed. “Whaddo I do?”

They dropped again. Four feet to go.

“The winch,” Mercy hissed urgently. “Stop the winch.”

Oblitero frowned about them, completely oblivious. “Which winch?”

“That winch!”

“This winch?”

“Yes, that winch!”

They fell again. Three feet.

The sharks, not being inherently aggressive the way they always were in bad b-movies, completely ignored them.

Oblitero staggered over to the winch and frowned. “Like this?” He turned the lever.

They dropped another foot.

“Other way! Other way!” Clark and Mercy cried out in unison.

Oblitero tried that. “It’s stuck…”

“Then pull _harder_!” Mercy hissed.

“Look,” Oblitero stumbled on his feet slightly as he turned to face them, “I’m just trying to be nice here, and you’re all with the yelling and the—”

“Full bar privileges!” Mercy squeaked out as they dropped another foot. Clark’s feet were brushing the surface of the water now. “At every LexCorp function for the next year!”

Oblitero pondered that. “Two years.”

“One and a half!”

“Deal!”

“Now, get us out this mess!” Mercy hissed.

Oblitero blinked. “Oh, is _that_ what you wanted. I thought you wanted me to turn the winch…”

And, with that, he clapped his hands once and the tank – water, sharks, and all – vanished right out of existence.

Mercy blinked in surprise.

“See?” Clark retorted. “I _told_ you he was Aquaman’s arch-nemesis.”

“Want me to get the chains too?” Oblitero offered.

“If you don’t mind.” Clark smiled brightly.

With the shark tank gone, it was actually a pretty nasty fall. Clark twisted them in mid-air, though, and with the Kryptonite chains obliterated out of existence, his powers had returned enough that it didn’t hurt him when Mercy landed on top of him.

Oblitero was grinning at where they’d fallen two feet away. “You guys’re great!” he exclaimed. “You’re the bestest buddies a supervillain could ever…”

And, with that, he fell back onto the contraption with a snore.

Clark and Mercy shared a disbelieving look.

“We’ve got to—” Clark began.

“I know already!” Mercy snapped.

“—Stop that wedding!”

Clark grabbed Mercy’s hand, and they flew for the chapel.

***

It was time-honored tradition that all heroic interruptions of weddings had to occur during the ‘if anyone knows why these two shouldn’t be wed’ section of the wedding. Thus it was horribly embarrassing when Clark and Mercy burst in before Vivian even had a chance to get down the aisle. Clark, who felt that his dramatic panache had been lacking of late, blushed in response to all the glares. Mercy didn’t seem to care, either way.

“Die, bitch!” She pulled out her Evil Kryptonite Laser and instantly began shooting up the place.

And that _certainly_ didn’t fit in with Superman’s style. Clark was beginning to suspect that Mercy might be just a little unhinged.

Her technique sure worked for clearing the place out, though. Various villains and lackeys practically clamored over each other as they hid in the pews.

Vivian, however, was not one of them.

She turned angrily towards them, a hissing pile of white lace, and when Mercy broke out with her laser, three blue, scaly tentacles emerged from her mouth and shot out in Mercy and Clark’s direction.

Clark took to the air to avoid the hit. Mercy ducked to the side quickly enough to evade two, but not the third. It latched around her ankle and pulled her in toward the beast that had once looked like Vivian DeLisle. Mercy was shooting her Evil Kryptonite Laser at it the whole time, but it seemed that Kryptonite really didn’t bother Xthl’thz’nks much.

From above, Clark tried his heat vision on the tentacle that had captured Mercy. Vivian had transformed almost completely now into a gray-blue gooey monster, shaped kind of like a mailbox, with a series of tentacles of various lengths emerging from her body. Where Vivian’s arms would have been, were now two eyes on long gray stalks. No wonder twisting her arms had hurt; it must have been the equivalent to poking her in the eye.

Clark’s heat vision wasn’t enough to break the tentacle’s hold on Mercy, but it did seem to annoy Vivian enough for her to turn her attention to defeating Clark instead. Instantly, he was bombarded by a swarm of tentacles that wrapped around his limbs in various places.

“Hey! What part of the red and blue spandex _doesn’t_ say ‘gay’ to you?” Clark complained when one tentacle landed in a very unfortunate place.

Vivian, blushing a blue-violet at her faux pas, moved the tentacle to Clark’s leg instead and began thrashing him across the room. It felt a lot like Clark imagined being mixed into a blender might feel like. He caught wild glimpses of startled faces hiding in the pews below. He was _really_ sad he didn’t have a camera to capture Gorilla Grodd’s expression and show it to the entire Justice League later; it was particularly priceless. And then, out of the corner of his eye, was Lex, blinking wide-eyed at Clark like he’d said something really interesting or something.

“If you wanted to get free, Kal-El,” he dimly heard Mercy shout out through the ringing in his ears at being shaken so hard, “now would be a good time.”

It suddenly occurred to Clark that, yeah, ripping free was probably a good idea and, oh look, he had the superstrength to do it. He pulled himself free with a mighty flex of supermuscles, and Vivian screamed in pain as he broke free of her tentacles.

“Oh…” Lex sighed from the head of the chapel. “My…”

Clark flew out of range of the next barrage of tentacles and glanced over to see that Mercy had pulled out a bowie knife from somewhere or other and had just sliced off the tentacle that was around her ankle.

From her back pocket, Mercy pulled out the Phantom Zone gun. “Die, bitch,” she repeated and fired. “Or…er, go to a weird, extra-dimensional prison,” she amended. Even Clark had to admit that “die, bitch” sounded much cooler.

Vivian zigged and zagged very quickly for an alien, mailbox-shaped blob of blue-gray slime, however. She dodged the portal neatly, and it blazed black behind her as she hissed and reached out again with her tentacles for Mercy.

Mercy’s eyes widened, and she scrambled backwards, but Clark could see that she wasn’t going to be fast enough to evade Vivian’s grasp.

Then, out of nowhere, someone suddenly came stumbling down the aisle, oblivious to all that was happening, and crashed sideways into Vivian. For one precarious moment, Vivian wobbled, then she fell backwards into the portal, screeching as she went. One tentacle managed to wrap around one of the pews at the last moment.

Clark took great pleasure in using his heat vision on it. For one moment it blistered but held on, but then Vivian’s grip failed her, and she vanished into the portal.

It closed with a satisfying ‘pop.’

“What’d I miss?” Doctor Oblitero asked drunkenly from where he’d fallen on the floor after accidentally crashing into Vivian.

For a moment, Clark considered kissing him.

Then, however, he heard commotion from the head of the chapel and turned just in time to see the blue-white glow in Lex’s eyes blink out as Vivian’s control over him wavered and broke. A shudder traveled throughout his entire body, and he collapsed.

Before he had a chance to hit the floor, Clark was there, catching him mid-swoon. Lex fainted quite prettily, Clark noted absentmindedly, as Lex draped himself gracefully back over Clark’s arm. Clark, for his part, puffed up his chest in a heroic manner. It did quite a lot to restore his sense of superhero style which had been so lacking during the battle.

He heard several cameras go off in the background. Reporters, no doubt. Clark could see the tabloid headlines now: ‘Lex Luthor Caught In Bizarre Alien Love Triangle!’ Lex was probably going to kill Clark for letting him get his picture taken in pure romance-novel-style, damsel-in-distress pose. After all that had happened this week, Clark could live with Lex trying to kill him again.

In fact, he shifted Lex in his arms slightly so that their groins were pressed together more fully. It probably wasn’t as pretty of a pose, but it sure felt nice, and Clark felt like copping one little feel wasn’t so much to ask for after the heroic efforts he’d gone through to save Lex from brain-eating larvae.

“Well,” Mercy sat up shakily from the back of the chapel, glancing at Clark cradling Lex’s body, Doctor Oblitero inebriated on the floor, and several pews completely shattered from the battle, “that was annoying.”

At that moment, the doors to the chapel burst open to reveal Lionel Luthor, who had somehow gotten his way past Lex’s security, after all.

“What,” he demanded with an arched eyebrow, “is going on here?” He stalked down the aisle to where Clark held Lex.

Mercy let out a sound that was almost frightened and didn’t even try to stop Lionel.

Fortunately, at that moment, Doctor Oblitero decided to wake up, roll over, and vomit all over Lionel Luthor’s shoes.

There was a collective gasp.

Lex regained consciousness just long enough to say, “ _Knew_ I always invited that guy for a reason,” before he passed out again.

Lionel looked down in disgust.

‘Run!’ Mercy mouthed to Clark.

Clark didn’t need to be told twice. An unconscious Lex could _never_ be trusted to his father’s care. Clark scooped up Lex in his arms and flew off into the night, just in time to hear the chaos break out inside.

He winced in sympathy at the mess he was leaving behind for Mercy to clean up.

***

Clark would never get over how fragile Lex felt in his arms. He cradled the curve of Lex’s skull in the palm of his hand, pressing Lex’s face gently into his shoulder as they flew back to LexCorp Towers. Lex curled instinctively into his warmth, at least while unconscious, and Clark found something deeply soothing about their flight. Lex was safe and cared for and the immediate threat to him had been destroyed.

Clark landed them on the balcony and was gratified to discover that Lex hadn’t changed the combination to the keypad outside his bedroom sliding doors since the last time Clark had come to chide him about his latest misdeeds. That had been over a week before, and Lex had to have known that Clark knew the combination now, but Lex was always uncharacteristically slow to change this code.

Lex still curled up in his arms, Clark flew over the bed and carefully lowered Lex until his back rested on soft white sheets. Lex’s left arm had looped around Clark’s neck in a near death grip some time during the flight, and it took a bit of finagling to dislodge it. Lex let out a little murmur of loss when Clark finally separated them, but promptly fell back into a deep, rhythmic sleep.

Clark hovered for a few minutes, directly over the bed and directly over Lex, watching Lex’s sleeping face and listening to the steady, reassuring thump of his heartbeat. Seemingly of its own volition, his hand reached down to trace the curve of Lex’s lower lip with his thumb. Lex hummed contentedly in his sleep and turned his head to follow the motion of Clark’s hand, rubbing affectionately against his palm.

It was a perfect moment of connection and the sort of thing they could only achieve while Lex was knocked unconscious.

Clark finally pulled back when he heard the sound of the penthouse’s back elevator arriving. The front elevator was probably still messed up from when he and Mercy had first teamed up two days before.

He stayed long enough to recognize the pulse and heartbeat in the elevator as Mercy and realized, with a start, that he’d actually been floating there, watching Lex sleep for over two hours. It had only felt like minutes. Embarrassed that he’d been hovering around Lex when Lex so clearly hated him, he flew out the way he’d come and into the cool Metropolis night.

Lex was safe at home, and Clark had done everything that was required of him. Everything was back to normal now.

It took Clark longer than usual to come out of his holding pattern around LexCorp Towers, and longer still before he took on the full mantle of Superman once more and rose into the heavens to do his job. Then, he heard a cry for help and shots fired two states over and he was off, like nothing had ever happened in the first place.


	8. Chapter 8

Clark was ready to collapse on his sodden couch and die all over again, but the instant he closed the door to his apartment, he was viciously assaulted.

“You pathetic _coward_!”

“Ow!” Clark exclaimed as the back of his head crashed painfully against the hard wooden floor. He tried to get up, but he found himself pinned helplessly to the ground by one very pissed off bodyguard.

“I. Can’t. Believe. You!” Mercy shouted right into his face where she’d straddled him, shaking his shoulders roughly in punctuation of every word. Clark’s head hit the floor a few more times in the process, and it _hurt_ , so there had to be exposed Kryptonite somewhere in the room.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Clark retorted, getting a bit pissed off himself. “I went along with your stupid plan and helped you save your boss. So _stop shaking me_!”

Mercy let out a frustrated exclamation and let him go. She stalked back and forth across his living room a couple of times, pacing wildly, before she finally kicked out one of the legs of his end table. Splinters of wood flew across the room, and Clark shielded his face where he was still lying on the floor.

“I’m going to make Lex pay for that, I hope you know.” If there was one thing Clark had learned over the years, it was which threats worked on Lex and his Army Of Evil and which didn’t.

Mercy stopped pacing and suddenly looked very sheepish. “You’ve got to be the most infuriating being on the planet,” she finally concluded weakly, all but collapsing on his couch. She didn’t even flinch when the cushions made an unpleasant squelching noise. “I don’t know what he sees in you…” A deep sigh. “Actually, he’s pretty much the same way. So I know _exactly_ what he sees in you.”

“He? Sees in me? Huh?” Clark cautiously sat up.

Mercy glared at him. “Are you being this obtuse on purpose?” she demanded. “I didn’t hand him over to you just so that you could _leave him_ like all the others!”

Clark gulped. He _really_ didn’t want to talk about this. “Look, it’s been a rough few days. Maybe you should just go back home, and I can actually get some sleep, and the next time we meet in the field I promise I’ll let you drop-kick me once, for free.”

“You really want to sleep on this soggy mess?” Mercy retorted in disbelief. “Are you _so_ afraid that you’d rather hide in this dismal little apartment than spend the night with Lex?”

The very thought caused his breath to catch in his throat. Lex, warm and hard beside him, his bare skin pressed against Clark, their limbs twining together, rocking, thrusting, until they finally aligned together in a moment of perfect ecstasy…

“Kent!” Mercy snapped her fingers in front of his face. He decided it was really annoying when she did that.

He fixed her with a confident stare. “It’s a two-way street, you know,” he finally retorted. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve tried to make amends, only to find myself strapped to a lab table?”

Mercy glared just as firmly back. “Naked. Spread-eagled,” she pointed out.

“To a _lab table_ ,” Clark insisted.

“Well, what do you _want_ him to do? Tie you to a bed? Do you have any idea how well _that_ would go over with the Supervillains’ Union?”

“At least it would be a clear message.”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “Lex doesn’t _do_ clear. He does subtle and overly contorted. You should know this by now.”

“If he wants to make up, all he has to do is say so.” Clark wasn’t budging, not after the two-thousand three-hundred forty-six misunderstandings they’d had thus far.

Mercy sighed like she was deeply tired. “You’re so impossible…” She stared down at her hands folded in her lap for a few seconds, before she came to a decision. “In a way,” she said very calmly and conversationally, so much so that Clark had the weird realization that Mercy was an actual _person_ for the first time, and not just a pro-Lex automaton, “I pity you.”

“Bwuh?” Clark was still reeling from The Softer Side Of Mercy.

“You could have Lex any time you wanted – and you clearly _do_ want him more than anything – but you can’t break through your own stubborn denial enough to fly over there. It’s kind of sad.”

Clark gulped. The words ‘have Lex’ sort of had this effect on his brain. Specifically, that all the blood left it and gathered together in his _other_ brain.

Mercy’s gaze met his, as challenging as ever. “It would only take you a microsecond.”

Clark’s cock tightened in a downright painful way.

“Go on. I dare you. He could be naked in your arms before I finish this sentence.”

Clark shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. God, he really didn’t need that image in his head right now. It was blocking out all his rational thoughts about why he _shouldn’t_ go to Lex, and…

“You’d better hurry before he gets too drunk to be any good for you.”

Clark didn’t think; he was just _gone_. It was the first time he’d moved faster than the speed of his own thoughts before. At a later time, he’d reflect on how cool that was. Right now, he had a mission to accomplish.

***

Drunk Lex was always a creature to be wary of.

Clark encountered this particular beast as he came to a halt over the balcony outside Lex’s bedroom. Lex had removed his tuxedo jacket and his white dress shirt was halfway unbuttoned. He had another undershirt on beneath it, but the effect was still far too sloppy for Lex’s usual elegant attention to his appearance. A bottle of expensive champagne dangled from the fingers of Lex’s right hand, almost like an afterthought.

Lex was looking over the edge of the balcony, staring down at the city he’d built below. “Oh,” he said uncharacteristically softly when Clark landed, “it’s you again.”

Clark’s surge of bravery at Mercy’s tantalizing suggestions of naked Lex was fading rapidly in face of Lex’s obvious misery. “Uh, yeah.” Clark gulped and twisted his hands in his cape. “You’re conscious, I see. That’s…good.”

“Hmm,” Lex commented noncommittally and took another swig of champagne.

“You’d better be careful, or you’ll end up like Doctor Oblitero,” Clark tried to joke.

Lex smiled slightly. “I don’t usually like to vomit, but in my father’s case…”

Clark smiled back and stepped closer so that he stood next to Lex, and they looked over the balcony together. A silence settled over them, with only the inevitable breeze at this high altitude.

“This was supposed to be my wedding night,” Lex finally commented, staring off into the distance. He chuckled morosely to himself. “Nine times. It would’ve been nine times…” He took another drink.

Clark figured that was something worth drinking to and took the bottle from Lex’s hand to take a swig himself. The champagne was sweet and tingled pleasantly on his tongue.

“Clark…” Lex began but trailed off.

Clark was technically wearing Superman’s costume. He didn’t bother to correct Lex, though. Maybe it was time he just gave up on trying to convince Lex that Superman and Clark Kent weren’t the same person. It certainly didn’t seem to do him much good, and it didn’t get Lex any more naked either. “Yeah?” He inched closer to Lex so that their shoulders were brushing.

Lex didn’t pull away. “Why is it that…?” He paused, gulped, and began again. “Just…why?”

“I have a theory,” Clark offered.

Lex turned slowly so that he was facing Clark. “Oh?”

Clark blushed. “My theory is that they’re all idiots.”

Lex raised an eyebrow. “Every single woman that I’ve tried to marry is an idiot?” he repeated incredulously.

“Mercy didn’t buy it either. But, yeah,” Clark nodded. His hand slid along the balcony rail until his pinky brushed Lex’s pinky.

Lex looked down at their hands almost indifferently. “Oh,” was all he said.

Clark gulped, took a deep breath, and decided it really was time for all of this silliness to end. “And also,” he began bravely.

Lex looked up at him, but he didn’t really seem interested in what Clark had to say. “Oh?”

“They weren’t me.” Clark’s hand came to rest on Lex’s fully.

“Oh,” Lex said blankly. And then, eyes widening: “Oh!” He looked up at Clark in surprise.

Clark pulled on Lex’s wrist until they were facing each other and slid one hand up to cup Lex’s cheek. Lex’s eyelashes fluttered closed in response. “The way I figure it, the universe is rewarding me for all my good deeds.” He leaned in so that their lips were only a hair’s breadth apart. “It was saving you for me, all these years.”

“I like that theory,” Lex sighed.

And their lips met.

***

If Clark – amidst all his blustering and denials and righteous speechifying about how Lex was Pure Evil and superheroes _never_ wanted to fuck evil sexy supervillains – had ever admitted to himself that he _did_ spend a rather unhealthy amount of time thinking about what Lex would be like in bed, he never would have imagined that Lex could be so… _submissive_.

Their kiss on the balcony had led to the supersonic removal of all clothes involved and a mad flight over to Lex’s bed. Clark was beginning to suspect that maybe he’d subconsciously wanted this for some time. After all, what other explanation was there for how desperate he was for Lex’s touch?

Lex, sleek and beautiful and naked beneath Clark, opened up his arms and let Clark do whatever he wanted. Clark nearly came right then, which earned him a skeptical eyebrow quirk. Clark just glared back and kissed Lex. After all, it wasn’t _his_ fault that Lex was evilly sexy.

Once Clark had gotten himself under control, he started by kissing his way along Lex’s throat, licking and biting in all the places where Lex’s breath caught in his chest. Their bodies rubbed together enticingly, but not deliberately yet. Clark wanted to savor every inch of Lex’s skin before they got on to the main event.

Clark’s lips moved lower, taking in collarbones, solar plexus, then nipples. Lex’s hands tangled in Clark’s hair, following his slow seduction down Lex’s body. Clark looked up when he dipped his tongue into Lex’s navel, to see that Lex was looking at him through half-closed eyelids. A secretive little smile lit up Lex’s face when their eyes met.

“What?” Clark asked playfully.

“I feel the need to inform you before you go any further,” Lex began hesitantly.

Clark held his breath.

“I do know that you’re Clark Kent, you know. Or Superman. Or whichever persona you’re supposed to be right now.”

Clark breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, I’d sort of guessed.” He grinned back at Lex and continued his trip down Lex’s hipbone.

“Good to know…” Lex sighed and gasped but didn’t protest when Clark didn’t focus on where Lex obviously needed him the most and instead made his way down Lex’s legs, sucking and nipping whenever he felt the urge. The backs of Lex’s knees seemed to be particularly sensitive.

“No hair anywhere?” Clark whispered against Lex’s inner thigh when he moved it so that his hands could better taste the delicate flesh there.

Lex all but purred in response. “You didn’t bother to find that out all those times you x-rayed my ass?” he retorted.

“Well, yeah. But I figured it was more polite to ask.”

Lex smirked. “No hair,” he agreed contentedly.

“I can definitely work with that,” Clark approved, working his way back up Lex’s body. He hovered over Lex’s erection for a moment, indecisive. “What do you like?”

“Mmm,” Lex seemed to be zoned out in a blissful state, “you.”

Clark wondered if maybe Lex wasn’t a little drunk, after all. Luckily, it didn’t seem to be affecting his blood flow in any way. And since this was one obvious place Clark hadn’t explored yet… “No hair at all,” Clark breathed in awe and look Lex into his mouth.

Lex bucked up in response, the most active he’d been since Clark had first climbed on top of him. His hands clenched tight in Clark’s hair, tangling deeply, but he let Clark set his own pace.

Clark started by just licking Lex all over, all around the sides until he finally reached the tip, where Lex was whimpering for his touch. Lex’s thighs were quivering by the time Clark ran his tongue over the slit, and Clark felt Lex let out a relieved gasp.

Lex’s cock was hot and thick against his tongue, and Clark couldn’t imagine then why they’d never done this before. He took Lex deep into his mouth and then his throat. Beneath his palms, Lex’s thigh muscles trembled with excitement.

“Oh, Clark…” Lex sighed adoringly.

It only took Clark five long, hard sucks before Lex was coming in his mouth. He swallowed it all in a state of stunned ecstasy, repeating gleefully to himself all the while, ‘I just blew Lex Luthor. I just blew Lex Luthor…’ It was the sort of moment that wet dreams were made of.

“Clark,” Lex breathed once more, guiding Clark up his body so that their lips finally met once more for a heated tangle of tongues and teeth. “This isn’t a good idea.” Lex’s mouth moved to the sensitive skin just below Clark’s ear and sucked hard.

“It really isn’t,” Clark groaned in agreement, thrusting his erection against the curve of Lex’s hip wildly.

“I suspect I might be a little bit evil,” Lex admitted sheepishly.

“That’s okay,” Clark assured him. “I suspect I might be a little bit oblivious.”

Lex snorted against Clark’s shoulder.

“Hey!” Clark protested. “I didn’t object to ‘a little bit’ evil.”

“Mmm, point,” Lex agreed. He pulled back, and Clark pulled back at the same time, and they ended up staring at each other only inches apart, the full lines of their bodies pressed together.

It was the most _intimate_ experience Clark had ever had. Almost of their own volition, his fingers intertwined with Lex’s, like they’d belonged together like that all along. Clark watched their joined hands in fascination. Lex turned to look as well, the barest hint of a smile curling his lips.

“Maybe,” Clark said hopefully, “I can help you with that evil thing, and you can help me with the oblivious thing.”

“I’m not sure. That may even be beyond my powers,” Lex retorted dryly.

Clark looked into his eyes again and saw that spark of humor in Lex’s smile, the same one that had drawn him in and made him fall _hard_ when he was fifteen. “I can be a very gifted pupil when I need to be.” Clark licked suddenly dry lips.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to return the favor,” Lex agreed, gaze dropping to Clark’s mouth.

It was too much for Clark to handle, and he kissed Lex again, wet and messy and impossibly wonderful. Lex shifted under him until Clark found himself rather comfortably situated between Lex’s thighs. Lex’s hands had snuck down at some point to cup Clark’s ass, pulling Clark’s hips in closer until they were grinding together once more. If Clark didn’t know better, he’d think that Lex was trying to tell him something…

“This,” Lex cracked open one eye to fix him with a stern gaze, “would be a deeply unfortunate time to be oblivious.”

Clark gulped and nodded. “Lube?”

“Dresser drawer.” Lex waved vaguely at the cabinet beside the bed. “And nice use of x-ray vision, by the way.”

With a groan, Clark rolled off of Lex and went for the lube and condoms. “Nice use of being bald and rich,” Clark retorted evilly.

Lex half-heartedly threw a pillow in his direction.

It was kind of endearing. Lex definitely wasn’t in evil mastermind mode tonight. Clark figured that if he fucked Lex nonstop for the rest of their natural lives, he could keep Lex from creating giant robot octopi again. It seemed like a good plan. He’d definitely have to give it a go.

Lex had settled himself comfortably back against the remaining pillows when Clark returned. The sheets were very white and very clean, which gave Clark a very happy thought about one way in which to carry out his new plan.

“Some day,” he soothed after Lex’s hiss when Clark’s first finger entered Lex’s body, “we’re going to have to do this in my laundry room.”

Lex looked willing, but confused. “Whatever you – ah! – want.”

Clark thrust his two fingers in and out of Lex a few times and felt Lex yield around him. “It’s my neighbor, Sandy,” he confessed.

Lex’s eyes narrowed, then widened when a third finger slid inside him.

“She doesn’t believe I’m gay,” Clark whined. With his free hand, he lubed up his cock. “She thinks I’m faking it, so I don’t have to date her.”

“She obviously lacks any empirical evidence,” Lex concluded.

“Exactly.” Clark lined himself up with Lex’s opening and began to press in.

Lex tensed for one moment, then relaxed, and Clark pushed an extra inch inside.

“She also laughed at me when I said I was in love with you,” Clark pouted and then, at Lex’s sharp inhalation of breath, plunged the rest of the way home.

Lex hissed, and his fingers dug into Clark’s shoulders hard enough to leave bruises on anyone else. Clark worried for a moment that he’d gone too fast, but then Lex spoke, and his voice was every bit as mischievous as it had been when they’d both been young and up to something back in Smallville. “I suppose she’s also under the delusion that I’m not in love with you?”

“Probably,” Clark agreed, moving slowly and biting his lip to keep from thrusting wildly out of control.

“She doesn’t seem very bright. We’ll have to fuck on one of the dryers, I suppose.”

“Uh-huh,” Clark grunted around where his teeth dug into the flesh of his lip.

“Here.” Lex pulled Clark’s shoulders down. “Let me do that for you.” And his own teeth began nibbling at Clark’s mouth in a thoroughly delightful way.

It gave Clark more attention to focus on how amazingly warm Lex was inside, how Lex molded to his contours, and how Lex’s hips rocked against his, urging him on harder and faster. Both were requests Clark was more than willing to comply with.

Moans echoed between their joined mouths, and not even Clark could tell whether it was he or Lex who was moaning. Maybe both. His thrusts increased in intensity until he was pretty sure he was blurring the line between human and superhuman, but somehow Lex kept apace with him throughout, his legs wrapped around Clark’s waist and his fingers sunk deep into Clark’s hair.

“Well,” Lex finally gasped when he broke away from their kiss, “I think I’m now eminently qualified to confirm that you’re gay.” And he did something so that he suddenly _clenched_ around Clark, and it was perfect and too much all at once.

“Oh, God! Lex…” Clark squeaked in a downright embarrassing way, and then he was coming even _more_ embarrassingly fast and hard, but Lex didn’t seem to mind at all. His hands came up to cup Clark’s face, soothing him as he fell.

And fall, he did. Quite literally. Lex let out a little “oof!” when Clark fully landed on him. Two hundred pounds of supermuscle had a way of rendering even the sexiest supervillains breathless. At that moment, it felt like the toughest battle Superman had even fought, but Clark managed to roll to the side so that he wasn’t squashing Lex anymore. Lex moved with him so that their bodies remained in a loose embrace.

“You realize, of course,” Lex yawned, “that this is the most absurd, improbable relationship I’ve ever embarked upon.”

“Really?” Clark blinked. “I mean, you did marry that woman who turned out to be a radioactive mop come to life from one of the broom closets in your Evil Lab…”

“Even still.”

“More absurd and improbable than the rest of our lives?” Clark asked skeptically.

Lex had to frown at that. “No,” he finally agreed. “I suppose not.”

“We do absurd and improbable well,” Clark assured him. “It’s all good.”

Lex murmured his agreement and before long he’d fallen into a deep, comfortable sleep at Clark’s side.

Clark watched Lex sleep for a long time before he finally got up the energy to clean them both up. Lex looked so much softer when he was asleep, but then Clark had finally figured out how to make him soft and pliant while he was awake too, hadn’t he?

Clark pulled the covers up around them both, and Lex shifted so that his back was to Clark. It was touching how trusting that unconscious gesture was. Clark curled up behind Lex and took a few minutes to process the elegant curve of Lex’s skull in the moonlight and the absolutely ludicrous series of events that had allowed Clark to witness Lex like this.

Finally, Clark brushed his lips against the curve of Lex’s bare scalp, did a quick x-ray just to make _absolutely sure_ there were no evil alien eggs about to hatch in Lex’s brain, and fell into the deep sleep of the truly satisfied superhero. After all, it wasn’t every day one finally got to fuck their archenemy so hard that they passed out.


	9. Chapter 9

Clark woke up sprawled out on his stomach across a big, soft mattress. At some point during the night, he’d managed to nuzzle his way in between two pillows, and they now formed a comfortable cocoon around his head, while his face pressed directly into the silken sheets. He realized belatedly that he was drooling a little, and that would probably leave a stain. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d always been a bit of a ridiculous sleeper, in any case.

The fact that his bed was big, soft, and comfortable triggered something in the back of his brain: he wasn’t at home. Home meant soggy cushions and a wooden frame that groaned and complained every time he moved. No, this was _way_ better than home, silky and warm and… _naked_?

That last observation caused two brain cells to finally clink together, and Clark’s memories of last night returned as a blur of sweat, tangled limbs, and Lex’s moans.

Clark opened one eye, and sure enough there was Lex beside him. Lex lay on his side facing Clark, his cheek pillowed on one folded arm, his body curved ever so slightly in on itself. The bed was large enough that, for all Clark’s sprawling, the extended fingers of his right hand were still six inches or so from Lex’s hip. The sheet was hopelessly tangled around Lex’s legs, but it didn’t obscure the good bits from Clark’s view in the slightest. Lex was soft and relaxed right now, but Clark’s memory was providing him with wonderful images of what Lex had looked like erect and _hungry_.

Feeling suddenly very soppy, Clark inched over so that their bodies rested together, his hand possessively caressing Lex’s thigh. Lex let out a little murmur in his sleep, but otherwise showed no signs of stirring.

Something inside Clark _ached_ at the sight of Lex like that. Lex’s face was gentle in his sleep, fine artificial eyelashes fluttering slightly and lips barely parted. There was something sweet and innocent about it, two words Clark had never associated with Lex before, even back when they’d been friends. A part of Clark wished then that Lex could be peaceful like that all the time, that when he woke up that indifferent mask wouldn’t snap into place and tense lines wouldn’t form around his eyes and mouth. He started composing a sonnet in his head to serenade Lex with when he woke up, but then he couldn’t come up with anything that rhymed with ‘ass’ that didn’t sound completely contrived, and switching to ‘butt’ didn’t help at all. He let the whole enterprise drop. It was probably for the good of the universe, anyway.

Clark couldn’t decide right then if he was being absurd or romantic. There was only one solution: coffee.

Clark couldn’t find his pants. He found his cape and one of his boots and _Lex’s_ pants. However, the essentials of Clark’s uniform had vanished. If he’d been awake, it probably would have occurred to him to search for spare clothes in one of the eight million or so closets Lex must have had scattered about his bedroom.

Instead, Clark slipped into Lex’s too-tight trousers and staggered out of the bedroom into the hallway: “Co-o-offee!”

He wandered around hallways for a while and concluded, blearily, that this was Lex’s new master plan. He’d set up a penthouse so spacious that Clark could wander the labyrinth infinitely, forever separated from sweet, sweet coffee. It was brilliant, and Lex was evil, and where was the _coffee_ already?

Eventually he stumbled into the kitchen, where he ran into Mercy. Mercy took one look at him and started snickering behind her hand.

Clark couldn’t bring himself to care. “Coffee?” he droned hopefully in a voice that would make any zombie proud.

Mercy gestured to a shiny silver machine that looked like some kind of medieval torture device.

Apparently, it _was_ torture device because a quick x-ray provided Clark with no useful technique for extracting the coffee. “ _Coffee_?” he whimpered piteously.

Mercy took, well, _mercy_ on him and hit three buttons. A little orange light flicked on. The machine made gurgling noises. All was right in the world. Especially when, a few seconds later, steamy, caffeine-laden beverage emerged.

Clark fell upon it like a man who’d just crossed the Sahara to reach his first oasis. “Mmm, coffee,” were his first articulate words. Since it was still morning and only his first cup of coffee, ‘articulate’ had a very loose meaning.

“And all this time we thought Kryptonite was your Achilles’ heel,” Mercy snorted as she took a sip of her own glass. Whatever was inside looked kind of puce.

Clark didn’t want to ask. “No,” he agreed. “Coffee.”

It was almost a pleasant atmosphere as Clark properly caffeinated himself and Mercy watched him with a smug little quirk to her lips. Eventually, Clark’s higher brain functions returned, right along with his _lower_ brain functions.

“I should probably bring Lex some coffee, too.”

“If you don’t want to be murdered within ten seconds after he wakes up? Sounds like a good idea,” Mercy agreed.

Clark shuffled about the kitchen and got another cup for Lex. He poured a – what was it now, third or fourth? – cup for himself as well. He was awake enough now that he didn’t all but inhale this one, however.

At that point, Clark’s stomach strategically growled. He’d had quite a workout the night before, after all. He gave Mercy a helpless look.

“Oh, Christ,” she sighed. “Now there’s _two_ of you!”

From this, Clark gathered that Lex was equally incapable of locating breakfast in the morning. Mercy just shook her head, dug around in a few cabinets, and finally broke a couple of eggs over a skillet. She reached into the refrigerator and pulled out some chopped vegetables that she tossed in with the eggs. Tomatoes and mushrooms and peppers sizzled. Clark seriously debated asking Mercy to marry him. Lex would probably object, though. Which, of course, meant that _Mercy_ would also object. So that was just a bad idea all around. Clark scrapped it immediately.

A plate was set in front of him, and Clark began wolfing down the eggs like they were almost as wonderful as coffee. “Lex doesn’t have a cook?” he asked, surprised, in between mouthfuls. If his mother were there, she’d be horrified. Or, actually, if his mother were there, she’d probably just be resigned since she’d had to deal with him like this every day for eighteen years.

“Too dangerous,” Mercy responded.

“I thought Lex was immune to all poisons,” Clark retorted.

“Too dangerous to let anyone else in the penthouse while I’m sleeping,” Mercy clarified, taking another sip of her own foul-looking concoction.

Clark hadn’t noticed it before because he’d been technically non-sentient, but Mercy wasn’t wearing her usual uniform yet. Instead she had on what must have been work-out clothes. Clark figured she probably spent four hours in the gym before heading out with Lex in the morning. That seemed like something she would do.

“You let _me_ in the penthouse while you were sleeping,” Clark countered.

Mercy grunted. “It was a security nightmare too, believe me. But I draw the line at babysitting Lex while he’s in bed.”

That was actually good to know. Clark’s kinks were limited to anything involving Lex’s body and lots of nudity. Mercy watching over the proceedings would just have been creepy. “Yeah,” Clark winced in sympathy for Mercy’s job, “I guess I’m probably still number one on list of the people you’re supposed to keep out, huh?”

Mercy shook her head. “Number five.”

“I’m only number _five_?” Clark was almost offended.

Mercy ticked off on her fingers. “Brainiac, Lex’s father, Aquaman, Ted from accounting, you.”

Now Clark _was_ offended. “I got beat out by _Aquaman_?”

“He’s _way_ more annoying,” Mercy shuddered. “He talks about fish. _All_ the time. And he keeps asking me if I like green and orange.” She shuddered again, just for good measure.

Clark considered for a moment. “Okay, I can see that.” He continued to eat merrily. “I’m still impressed you let me anywhere near Lex.”

“At least you’re not after Lex for his checkbook or a platform to take over the world,” Mercy shrugged. “The way you talk about him, it’s almost like you…care.” Mercy wrinkled her nose at the word like it was strange and foreign to her. Given the attitudes of all of Lex’s wives to date, it pretty much had to be.

Clark found himself kind of liking Mercy right then. For a psychotic, evil, supervillain bodyguard, she at least had a decent sense of fair play. He debated telling her this, except he realized that she would probably pull out her Evil Kryptonite Laser on him if he did so. He wisely kept his peace.

“That, and the fact that Lex can’t possibly marry you until Kansas legalizes gay marriage,” Mercy added with a smirk. “I’d say the world is safe for at _least_ another century.”

Clark snorted. “Unless Lex sets his mind to it,” he countered.

Mercy grinned back at his joke, before her expression turned thoughtful. “I wonder…” And then she shook her head.

“What?” Clark asked, curious.

“I don’t know,” Mercy shrugged. “Possibly nothing. But didn’t that whole affair with Vivian seem a bit…strange to you?”

Clark coughed. “With the evil mailbox-looking alien trying to lay eggs in Lex’s brain? What on _earth_ could be strange about that?”

Mercy went on like those facts didn’t seem strange to her in the slightest. It occurred to Clark, not for the first time, that they all led very surreal lives. “Things just turned out very well for Lex in the end,” she concluded. “He finally got you in his bed, which seemed highly improbable. You and I learned to coexist, which seemed _impossible_. And, when you think about it, since when is Lex _that_ susceptible to mind control?”

Clark frowned. He seemed to recall that thought occurring to him more than once during their little adventure. Lex had thrown out stronger telepaths than Vivian without breaking a sweat. But why wouldn’t he…? Clark’s eyes widened when he realized what Mercy was implying. “You think that he…?”

Mercy shrugged. “Sometimes even I can’t tell if it was a scheme, or luck just happened to be in Lex’s favor. In fact, I don’t think even _he_ knows half the time.”

Clark considered that thoughtfully and ate the final mushroom on his plate. Lex _had_ been creating elaborate, contorted schemes for years and years now. What if it _had_ become so internalized that Lex could lay out master plots without even being conscious of it? What if _everything_ , all their lives up until this point, had all been part of one big plan to…?

He and Mercy shared a look and, simultaneously, shook their heads: “Nah.”

In the meantime, Mercy had been gauging his rate of consumption and had fried up another batch of eggs. Why on earth had Clark ever thought Mercy was evil? Clearly, she was a goddess.

“I should probably bring some for Lex, too,” Clark considered. Now that his appetite for food was mostly sated, certain _other_ appetites were rearing their heads. Given that he was wearing Lex’s too-tight pants, this was kind of uncomfortable. He squirmed a little.

“You want to win Lex’s undying love and gratitude?” Mercy asked the most rhetorical question ever. She walked over to the fridge and pulled out an aluminum foil package before setting it on the table next to Clark’s elbow.

Clark peeled back to the foil to reveal several slices of pita bread, cut neatly into sixths.

Mercy was digging around the cupboard in the meantime and finally emerged with a jar of apricot preserves. “Here.”

Clark blinked at it. “Huh?”

“Preserves go on the pita,” she sneered at him like he was extraordinarily simple-minded.

“Seriously?”

“Trust me.”

Clark met her gaze and found that he couldn’t tell if she was putting him on or not. Then again, Lex just might be weird enough that he _did_ eat pita bread with apricot jelly for breakfast. After all, he _was_ Lex.

Clark placed his food, the pita and preserves, and Lex’s coffee onto the tray Mercy had procured from one of the cabinets. “Thanks,” he gave her a dazzling smile as he headed out.

“Oh, Kal-El?” she interrupted his escape.

“Yeah?” he asked nervously.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted for Lex. So please try not to mess it up, okay?” Her shoulders were tensed, and her hands were balled up into fists at her sides, like it was causing her actual physical pain to admit this.

“I’ll try,” he agreed solemnly.

Mercy almost smiled at him in response. It was a start.

***

Lex glared icy daggers of death at Clark when he poked Lex in the back until he woke up. “Kryptonite…” He fumbled instinctively for the drawer in the bedside table. “Where Kryptonite…?”

“I brought coffee.” Clark held up the cup.

Lex paused, and conscious thought seemed to return, overriding his intrinsic ‘kill Superman’ impulses. “Coffee?” He sounded exactly as helpless as Clark had half an hour before. Clark took this as evidence that they were soulmates.

“Here,” Clark handed him the cup.

Lex proceeded to do his best to drown himself in the cup. “Mmm, coffee…”

That was it. Absolute proof. Clark and Lex were Meant To Be. “I’ve got food, too,” Clark announced, settling into bed beside Lex with the tray. Their hips brushed, and Lex’s hip was still all wonderful and naked, and Clark almost forgot that food and coffee existed for a moment.

“Food?” Lex blinked blearily.

Clark pointed, somewhat uncertain, to the pita and apricot jelly.

Lex gulped, and it looked like his eyes were watering up at the sight. Suddenly, he turned to Clark, desperately serious. “Marry me?” he begged.

Clark had often wondered, while foiling Lex’s evil wives, how they’d ever managed to override Lex’s common sense long enough to get him to propose. Now he had his answer; Lex had absolutely no common sense whatsoever when it came to proposing.

“Uh, Lex,” he began nervously, “you do realize that last night was the first time we weren’t officially archenemies, right?”

Lex blinked at him. “So? I can have the caterers ready again on Tuesday.”

Clark resisted the urge to bang his head back against the headboard. “Don’t you think you should, I don’t know, make sure I’m not trying to murder you for your money or something first?”

Lex waved him off. “Does afternoon work for you?”

Clark sighed. “Lex, gay marriage is illegal in Kansas.”

Lex, hand halfway to his cell phone, paused. “Oh…damn. You’re right.” He bit his lower lip in a downright devious way.

Clark inched closer and slipped his hand onto Lex’s thigh. “How about we eat breakfast in bed,” he suggested, “and then work on, er, maintaining our truce,” Clark blushed horribly at the ridiculous euphemism, and Lex’s eyes turned downright feral, “and then, when we’re done, you can work on the whole gay marriage thing. By the time you pull that off, we should have enough proof that I’m not going to turn evil on you.” Clark’s hand slipped from Lex’s thigh to certain areas that seemed to enjoy Clark’s suggestions quite a lot.

“This is a good plan,” Lex agreed carefully. “I fully support this plan.”

Clark held out a piece of apricot-jellied pita for him. Lex took a bite out of it, his eyes locked on Clark’s all the while. Clark couldn’t decide whether to be grossed out by Lex’s choice of ‘food’ or impossibly turned on due to Lex’s nearly infinite sexiness. The latter seemed to be winning out, though.

Ah well, it was a weird life, but Clark figured he could get used to it.


	10. Epilogue

_Five Years Later…_

Gay marriage, despite Lex’s most fervent campaigning, was still illegal in Kansas.

However, it was perfectly legal in Washington, D.C., where Lex now lived as the Senator from Illinois. The fact that he’d tried to push for gay marriage in Kansas so hard had thrown him back hopelessly in the polls in that state. Fortunately, LexCorp’s secondary headquarters in Central City provided Lex with dual residence, and the state’s well-oiled system of corruption had got him into office with only a two-year delay in his master plan.

All this meant that one fine day in May, Lex, Clark, Mercy, and Doctor Oblitero all ended up in a wedding chapel in D.C. where Lex Luthor tried to get married for the tenth time.

The entire time, Mercy’s shoulders were tensed, and she reached for the Evil Kryptonite Laser tucked under her jacket every time the wind blew or the priest coughed or two molecules collided with each other a bit too hard.

No one in the superhuman community could figure out how Doctor Oblitero had been invited as the second witness to _the_ wedding of the century. After all, he was just a minor supervillain. _Aqualad_ had beat him up once, for crying out loud! But, for some reason that had the rumor mills spinning like mad, he’d been allowed into the chapel at the very exclusive wedding of Superman and Lex Luthor, when no one else but Lex’s bodyguard had. It was a mystery.

Clark noticed all this solely because if he tried to focus too much on why _he_ was there, his stomach began to get all queasy, like he has ingested an entire team of acrobats. Or maybe an entire three-ring circus. Lex wore that half-interested expression that made him look so blankly indifferent but really meant that he was desperately trying to hide something. Clark was willing to bet money that it was the fact that Lex was as scared shitless as he was.

Between all this and Mercy ‘accidentally’ shooting three votive candles and Oblitero drunkenly spilling vodka all over the priest, the two greatest archenemies the world had ever known made their vows. The world didn’t explode, or even the chapel. In fact, the only thing that exploded was an old office building on Harper Avenue, and that had been scheduled for demolition months in advance.

As Clark and Lex kissed, Clark was relieved to discover that he hadn’t suddenly developed strange and evil thoughts that were whispering to him to murder Lex in his sleep for his money, and then take over the world. Clark had never known exactly what evil power made all of Lex’s wives want to murder him once the wedding was over, but it seemed to hold no sway over Clark. Mostly, he just wanted to kiss Lex more, then get him naked a lot.

Clark considered this an auspicious sign.

Lionel Luthor didn’t manage to show up this time, so Doctor Oblitero couldn’t puke all over his shoes again. Instead, Doctor Oblitero puked all over the shoes of a woman who was arranging flowers just outside the chapel.

Everyone had fussed and apologized and somehow, while Clark was trying to help the woman, he must have jostled her a bit too hard because the black wig felt right off her head, and – sure enough – it was Lois Lane.

After that, Lex and Mercy didn’t feel sorry at all that Oblitero had thrown up all over her shoes. Clark kind of did, but then again Lois _had_ been trying to intrude on his wedding, so he let it slide.

Lex had patted Oblitero proudly on the back.

“His super power is supposed to be that he can obliterate things, you know,” Lex confessed to Clark that night when they were finally alone. “But I suspect that he also has a sixth sense for vomiting on people that I hate.”

“We’ll have to name our firstborn after him,” Clark agreed.

Lex gave him a funny look. “Except that we can’t _have_ a firstborn,” he reminded Clark.

“Oh. Right.” Clark had done a _lot_ of research with the AI about Kryptonian reproduction in those days that had followed the disaster with Lex’s Almost Evil Wife #9. He had wanted to make sure that it didn’t involve laying eggs in the brain in any way, shape, or form. It seemed there were still some details he’d really have to mention to Lex one day, though…

In any case, Arvin was kind of a dorky name. Clark wasn’t sure he could name their son that, anyway.

“Clark?” Lex all but purred, lying back on the bed in a sultry sort of way that would have made fold-out models everywhere weep with envy if they could’ve seen.

“Yeah?” Clark gulped.

“Why are you still wearing pants?”

It was an excellent question. Clark remedied the situation immediately.

And, given the way that Lex moaned when Clark thrust inside him, Clark decided that this was a very auspicious sign, indeed.


End file.
